A Paler Shade of Green
by Rina76
Summary: Lorne's home world of Pylea is full of ugly, nasty demons. Definitely not boyfriend material. No matter how lonely he gets, Lorne would never go back there for a date. But what if a portal opened and Pylea comes to him? Lorne/OMC, also features Connor!
1. Hotel Discovery

Disclaimer: I do not own the Angel fandom or any of the characters from the show. I am not making money from the writing of this story.

Title - A Paler Shade of Green.  
Author - Rina  
Pairing - Lorne/OMC  
Other featuring characters - Fred, Connor, Angel, Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia. None of them actually together.  
Rating - PG-13. Slash, M/M, adult themes, mild swearing.  
Summary - AU. Did you ever watch Angel and wonder why that devilishly delicious Lorne never got any lovin'? Not even so much as a kiss? Well, this fic will change all that!  
A/N - In this story Lorne will be gay. Or at least bi. It was never clear in the series which way he swung so I'm taking full advantage of that and having fun with it! Enjoy the first part of my story and please let me know what you think.

Part one.

Lorne is strolling along the carpeted corridor of the Hyperion Hotel, wearing a tailored orange suit with a hot pink shirt and tie, his bright outfit offsetting the greenness of his complexion. The blonde tips of his hair glow golden as he passes by the soft lights ensconced on the walls either side of him. He's just returned from doing an in-house clairvoyant reading on a forty year old Hollywood actor desperate to know if he's going to make a comeback after a vicious divorce followed by a well-publicised battle with drugs. Due to his extensive connections in the entertainment biz Lorne was offered the job and having always been a fan of this particular screen idol he jumped at the chance to probe the man's famous aura and see exactly what was in there. Through the wonders of his musical mind-reading Lorne was able to inform the now-sober and wiser actor that a movie based on a comic book superhero is coming up and though he may be sceptical about the role at first, he won't regret accepting it because it will make him a massive star all over again and replenish his drained bank account nicely.

On top of that, he's going to meet somebody wonderful who will heal the mess that his greedy ex-wife made of his heart. The still-handsome dark-haired celebrity was over the moon to hear this and thanked Lorne sincerely and gratefully, proving that his nice-guy reputation isn't just a reputation. Apart from the huge tip he got, Lorne enjoyed giving the good news. Makes a change from all the cheating, stealing and lying he usually picks up when he listens to people sing. That stuff makes him feel icky, like he needs to take a long, hot shower to get clean again, but when he sees the shining future success of somebody who deserves it, it leaves him with a positive, upbeat feeling and the sense that the world isn't such a bad place after all.

As a result, he's in a fabulous mood right now and is looking forward to having a cocktail or two to celebrate. Indeed, he's already made himself one; gin and tonic with a squeeze of lime, and is carrying it back to his room, ice cubes tinkling against the short glass in his hand. All is blissfully quiet in the Hyperion for once – no bloody brawls or dangerously cracked portals spewing out creatures in the lobby – and for a moment he thinks it's almost TOO quiet, quickly glancing up and down the hallway to make sure some big nasty hasn't eaten everyone. It's not likely, though. He would have noticed gore and guts splattered on the floor if that was the case. It's mid-evening on a Thursday night so the gang are probably getting dinner somewhere or watching a movie. Besides, if anything sinister was lurking in the hotel Connor would have killed it by now so Lorne shakes his head in dismissal and opens the door to his sanctuary, going inside and kicking off his white loafers. With one hand he tugs at his tie, loosening it, and then pulls aside a velvet curtain to peer out the window, gazing at the landscape of LA spreading out before him. He likes the view much better when it's dark because all the concrete ugliness of the city is hidden and all you can see are the lights, like billions of multi-coloured stars. It's nice weather outside; balmy and clear. Well, except for the smog but then that's always there. You get used to it. He sips at his drink, glancing at the three-quarter moon hanging in the sky, bathing the garden below in silver.

He hopes Cordy comes back soon because he's itching to tell her about his new celebrity crush. Seems like all he does these days is crush on people, not actually get anywhere with anybody. At odd times during the past he's had unrequited things for Angel, Wes and even Fred, though he's glad now nothing ever happened with any of them as they see each other all the time and it would be totally awkward knowing what they look like naked and vice versa. He realises that he only felt that way about his friends because they work so closely together and have developed a peculiarly tight bond. When you've been without a partner for long everybody around you tends to become more attractive. Hell, even Connor is starting to look kind of appealing to him with that slim teenage body and pouting red lips. When he's thinking inappropriate thoughts about that savage little punk that's when Lorne knows he really, REALLY needs to get laid. Preferably by someone /not/ living in this hotel. Everyone else here has romantically hooked up with another person at one time or the other but not Lorne.

Never Lorne.

He's always overlooked, dismissed in favour of the smarter guys, the hotter guys, the less-green and more-macho guys. Those guys get all the attention. Maybe one day he'll meet somebody more suited to him. Somebody that Lorne can call his own and smother with all the love and affection he has to give. So far, it just ain't happened but hey, there's always hope, right? If not, there's always sweet, sweet alcohol so he takes another swallow of his drink, feeling the warmth spreading into his belly and making him feel somewhat less lonely, his mind drifting back the handsome dark-eyed celeb whose aura he just intimately probed. He smiles to himself. Now, that was almost as good as sex. Almost...

A click in the room draws his attention and Lorne swivels around to find his door half open. He frowns slightly, thinking it mustn't have latched properly and goes back to shut it, pulling on the handle to make sure it's closed. Satisfied it won't pop open again, he turns back around.

There's a demon standing in front of him.

Lorne jumps in fright, the gin and tonic leaping out of his glass and sploshing down the front of one thigh, very near his crotch, the icy-cold liquid making him yell and jump again, this time lurching backwards and banging into a side table, knocking it over and sending a valuable lamp toppling towards the floor. Lorne unsuccessfully grabs for it and then slips on an ice cube, losing his balance and clumsily crashing sideways into the wall, finally sliding to the ground in a moaning lime and orange heap.

It seems Fred is still here because she comes rushing down the hall at all the noise and bursts in through the door. "Lorne, are you okay?" She crouches next to him, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. The only damage done was to my drink," Lorne groans, taking Fred's assistance to stand and brushing ineffectually at his sodden pants-leg. "Aw, it looks like I peed myself." He winces. "I might have a little bit, actually."

"What happened?" Fred asks, her chocolate eyes large with worry. "Did you fall over?"

"No, I wanted to redecorate," Lorne huffs, gesturing to his broken lamp and overturned table. "Oh, did I mention the sudden appearance of a strange demon in my room?"

"A what? Where?" Fred spins around, her long dark hair whirling around her as she searches the area.

"Try looking over there." Lorne points in the direction.

Fred does and just visible above the back of the couch is a pair of red eyes and horns.

"Oh my goodness!" She looks at Lorne and then back at the unidentified demon cringing behind the furniture. "It's a...a...one of you."

"Yeah, a Pylean. And apparently this one doesn't believe in knocking." Lorne glares at the unexpected visitor for scaring the poop out of him. The horns duck down a little lower.

"Is it dangerous?" Fred asks warily.

"I don't think so," Lorne grudgingly answers, grabbing a scarf and dabbing at the unattractive wet patch on his pants. "I mean, I was an easy target crumpled up on the floor like that but I didn't get jumped."

"So, what does it want?"

Throwing the now-damp scarf through the bathroom door, Lorne states decisively, "Let's go find out."

As Lorne and Fred approach the couch the demon scuttles backward, cowering in a corner like a trapped animal, arms raised as if to ward off an attack. Far from being an 'it', Lorne sees that his surprise house guest is a girl, a young one, and incredibly scrawny with a filthy, tattered Hessian robe, soot-smudged skin and long matted hair that's somewhere between brown and red; a bit difficult to distinguish with all the dirt in it. It looks like she's been living in the wild for a couple of years or perhaps in a cave. In fact, she looks a lot like Fred did when she was first discovered and this makes Lorne feel immediately protective of the poor Pylean lass. Plus she's scared as hell. Not only can Lorne see the fear in her body language and large round eyes, he can feel it empathically. But she's not frightened of him. It's something else.

"I am sorry for trespassing," the girl apologises anxiously, her voice low and husky, as if she's not used to speaking. "Please don't send me back there. I beg you!"

"It's okay, peaches. Nobody is sending anyone anywhere," Lorne soothes, holding his open hands up calmingly. "You just startled us what with the sneaking in unannounced and everything. We're not mad. I promise."

The she-demon stares at him and then at Fred, who's also doing her best to send out soothing, friendly vibes. The vibes start to work because the girl lowers her shielding arms.

"I'm Lorne. And this is Winifred Burkel," Lorne introduces, "but you can call her Fred."

Fred waves with a grin. "Hi. What's your name?"

The younger Pylean swallows and glances at Lorne who gives an encouraging nod.

"I am Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan," she finally reveals.

"Do you have something a little...less of a tongue-twisty mouthful?" Fred puts her thumb and forefinger close together.

In a hesitant tone, the demon replies, "K...Kylar."

"Well, Kylar. It's so nice to meet you," Fred enthuses. "Isn't it Lorne?"

"Absolutely," Lorne echoes. "And you're forgiven for breaking into my room. I've never had an intruder quite as cute as you before."

In spite of her scruffy, less-than-clean appearance, she has striking features; a pale green heart-shaped face with a delicate pattern of spots embossed around the hairline, temples and cheeks, a small upturned nose, large expressive eyes and a plump mouth the exact shade of wine. Her teeth are perfectly white and straight contrasted against her dark lips and she has the same kind of facial colouring that Lorne does but more subdued; smoky charcoal beneath the lower lids and violet over the entire eye socket area, accentuating her ruby irises and gorgeously long lashes. Her curved horns are a deep russet-brown and petite in size. She's way too skinny, like a walking skeleton, but definitely a hottie. All she needs is a bath and a few decent meals.

"Here, let me help you up," Lorne says kindly, offering the girl his hand. He sees Kylar start to reach out to him but then she spies the disgraceful state of her own earth-encrusted fingernails, abashedly retracting her hand and getting up by herself, self-consciously glancing down and burying her fists within the frayed folds of her stained robe.

"I know who you are, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan," Kylar announces, bravely meeting his gaze.

Taken aback, Lorne returns, "You do?"

"Everyone knows who you are. I have heard talk. Mostly from your life-giver."

Thinking of his mother's reaction last time he dropped in for a visit, Lorne snorts, "Mostly bad, I'm guessing."

"She is glad you are gone," Kylar verifies. "And your brother Numfar frequently does the dance of joy."

Lorne rolls his eyes. "I bet he does, the squirmy maggot."

"But I did not share their merriment." Kylar's voice is soft and shy. "It saddened me when you left."

"Have we met before?" Lorne tilts his head questioningly at the second demon. "Because I'm sure I would have remembered someone as enchanting as you."

"We have never spoken. When you still lived on Pylea with your clan I was but a child from a neighbouring village. I had often watched you in secret," Kylar confesses with a downward glance. "Your voice would ring out across the fields when you thought nobody was near. I was the only one who did not think it was a terrible, ear-piercing cacophony."

Highly flattered, Lorne replies, "Aw, aren't you just the sweetest little stalker? By the way, how did you get off Pylea? It's not like you can just step on a bus and come to LA."

"The great whirling hole in the forest," Kylar tries to describe. "I saw you go through it with your human friends. In the big black wheeled carriage."

"We just call them cars here," Lorne helpfully spells out. "And the great whirling hole? A portal."

"I tried to follow you through the...the portal but it closed. I remembered the words you spoke, to make it open. I said them aloud but nothing happened."

"Once a portal has been invoked, it runs out of energy," Fred clarifies. "Needs time to recharge again."

"I had time," Kylar affirms. "I waited there every day, saying the words, just to see if it would open again. Today it did."

"But it's been over eighteen months since we last opened the portal." Fred frowns. "You've been waiting there in the forest this long?"

"I would have done anything to leave Pylea. I am different; I do not fit in there. I do not like violence or hunting and do not feast on animal flesh. I have spoken to humans and made pets of woodland creatures." Kylar looks to Lorne and then drops her eyes, not before Lorne spots the pained glint in them.

"Our people have been very unkind to me."

"I hear ya, kitty cat," Lorne says sympathetically, knowing exactly how cruel his own race could be. "Last time I was there, they cut my head off and sat it on a silver platter. Not exactly a place I ever want to set my four toes on again."

"Me either," Fred joins in. "Not about the four toes part...But I was stuck there for years. Went a little crazy. Wrote on walls a lot. That was until Angel rescued me. Along with Lorne and the others, of course," she quickly adds, glancing at the orange-suited demon who has his brow raised in indignation because he certainly helped, what with getting his noggin lopped off and his body almost dismembered so they could escape that freaking lice-infested hell hole.

"Angel the Great; the Drokken Slayer?" Kylar asks, plainly awe-struck, earning a twinge of jealousy from Lorne. "He is here?"

"You're standing in his home," Fred says with a smile, knowing how great an effect Angel's presence can have on a girl. "Well, our home too, since we live here. And he just goes by Angel now."

Hoping to turn Kylar off his brooding black-clad boss, Lorne declares, "You realise he's a blood drinker?"

"I know," Kylar returns, searching around for the honourable vampire champion but seeing naught except this dimly lit room with its bizarre objects and furniture. "When the portal opened, I went through and came out on the other side in a very strange place. All the places here are strange to me."

"Were you in a library?" Fred prompts. "A big room full of books?"

At Kylar's bewilderment, Lorne explains, "See, you aren't the first Pylean to get sucked through a portal. Apart from yours truly, of course. Last time it was my cousin Landok. He landed in the library. But there was also another inter-dimensional hotspot in my club, Caritas. Tables and chairs, a piano on stage, lots of mirrors. Do you recall seeing any of that?"

"Mirrors." Kylar thinks for a moment and then nods. "Yes, that's where I was. I looked for you but it was empty and dark. I went outside, into this noisy world of bright lights and a thousand scents. I asked questions of other demons, if they knew where to find one like me with a voice that can bring grown men to their knees. I was told to come here."

"Well, welcome to Los Angeles, Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan. Glad you could make it," Lorne says in delight. "Y'know, I think this is the first time I've been happy to see someone from my home world."

"I am thankful to be here," Kylar replies quietly and respectfully.

Lorne stares at the smaller demon, struck by both the level of maturity and poise she possesses for one so young and obviously traumatised. He quizzes, "How old are you, Kylar?"

"I have seen eighteen winters," Kylar informs him.

"You're just a baby," Fred exclaims.

"In Pylea I am of age. I am expected to mate, to produce spawn. But that is not what I wish for myself." Reluctantly, Kylar adds, "Also, nobody would take me as their life-bound partner."

"Really?" Fred scrunches up her face in perplexity. "Why not?"

Once again, Kylar looks down, as if hiding a deep shame. "I am not thought of as particularly...desirable."

"Well, that's just a load of baloney," Fred blurts in outrage, gesturing to the girl-demon. "Look at you! You're just the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"Uh, Fred," Lorne regretfully interrupts. "Unfortunately, Kylar is speaking the truth. My people have a screwed up sense of what's hot and what's not. I mean, my mother is considered a great beauty and have you SEEN her lately? In the dictionary next to the word 'colossal, warty, bearded behemoth' there should be a picture of her ugly mug." He shudders.

"Those ignorant morons back on Pylea don't even know what pretty is. There's not even a word for it in our language. What do you expect from people who don't have music or art?" He turns back to Kylar. "But in this world, sugar plum, you ARE considered attractive. With a capital A."

"He's right," Fred pipes up. "With those cheekbones and those lips, you could be a supermodel." She squints at Kylar's face. "Course, they might have to airbrush out the horns, though, and maybe use a lot of foundation..."

Kylar stares blankly at Fred. "What is a super-model?"

"We'll explain later," Lorne promises. "Right now we need to get you a bath and some clean clothes because that old robe is going straight in the incinerator." He sniffs disdainfully. "It still smells like that godawful place."

"A bath would be wonderful," Kylar admits. "On Pylea I could only take a quick dip in the stream when I was sure there were no spiked eels or flesh-eating leeches in the water. There are certain leaves and berries you can use as a skin scrub but I couldn't always find those."

"Don't worry. We have real soap here," Fred informs Kylar. "And hot water with no slimy, squirmy biting things. You can scrub away to your heart's content."

Fred and Lorne decide to take Kylar to Fred's bathroom because it's more feminine than Lorne's and she has all those perfumed shampoos, powders and lotions that girls like. As they lead the way, Kylar looks at the many doors leading to rooms off the hallway.

"Do other people live here as well?"

"Only a few; the ones you saw going through the portal with me. Oh, plus a kid but you probably won't see him much," Lorne replies casually, declining to bring up the confusing weirdness of Connor's presence at this early stage.

"Most of those rooms are empty," Fred elaborates. "This used to be a real fancy hotel once. It also used to be haunted. Not anymore, though. Angel took care of that."

"He can banish ghosts too?"

At Kylar's impressed tone, Lorne retorts, "Apparently, a two hundred year old dead guy can do a lot of things. I guess that's why they call him a champion."

"Is he truly dead? He doesn't appear to be," Kylar expresses doubtfully, recalling how powerful and full of fire Angel seemed when he duelled with the Groosalugg back on Pylea. Kylar saw that. Everybody saw that. It was the biggest thing to happen on the planet since the double eclipse two years ago.

"Oh, Angel's deader than a doornail. Got no heartbeat whatsoever," Fred volunteers. "He doesn't even breathe."

"Yeah, and his skin is as cold as ice," Lorne throws in. "He can't go in the sunlight, can't eat food, can't even have an intimate relationship with anyone in case he turns evil. Which he has, a couple of times. And, trust me, you don't want to be anywhere near him when that happens." He raises his brows for emphasis. "Sure, he's got the sexy broody thing going on but Angel has way too much baggage for a potential romantic partner, in my opinion."

Kylar gives Lorne a strange look and seems about to ask another question about the matter but they have arrived at Fred's room and she bustles Kylar inside, Lorne politely waiting out in the hall while the girls do girl business.

While Kylar gapes around in awe at all the colourful, shiny things, Fred runs the bath, filling it with warm water and adding a large dollop of foaming rose-scented gel, making sure there are plenty of fresh towels at hand and a comb for detangling. She looks at Kylar's long knotted hair, grubby skin and nails caked with dirt, sure the demoness will enjoy getting nice and clean after living in such squalor for so many months. Realising that Kylar has nothing else to wear apart from the ragged Hessian shawl, she returns to her wardrobe and selects some undergarments, a tan corduroy skirt and a soft pink sweater, bringing it all back to the bathroom and laying it on the vanity top.

Turning the faucets off and checking that the water isn't too hot, she gestures to the now-full and frothy bathtub and says to Kylar, "You hop in there, sweetie. Have a good soak. And see this stuff?" She holds up a plastic bottle with a flip-top lid. "It's called conditioner. Put it in your hair after you've washed it with shampoo – from this other bottle – and comb it through. Gets the tangles right out. When you're done, try these on." Fred motions to the clothing left on the bench.

"Tell me if they don't fit and I'll get something else, all right?"

Kylar nods gratefully. "Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Winifred Burkel of Los Angeles. It is very kind of you."

"You're very welcome." The brunette girl smiles. "And it's just Fred, okay?"

"Okay," Kylar replies tentatively. "Fred."

Leaving the Pylean alone to bathe, Fred shuts the door and wanders out into the corridor where Lorne is loitering, clearly thrilled to have a second demon in the hotel. Well, at least one that's not trying to kill them or lay eggs in their brains.

"Gosh, Lorne. She's adorable."

"Oh, I know." He squeezes Fred's arm excitedly. "Isn't she a doll?"

Fred gives him a coy look. "You /like/ her, don't you?"

"Well, who wouldn't?" Lorne grins, not denying it.

"I didn't think you were...um...interested...in girls," Fred ventures, blushing a little bit.

"Girls, boys. Demons, humans. It's all the same to me, strudel," Lorne declares unashamedly. "I like everyone for who they are, not what they are. Believe me, I got judged enough on Pylea for being the way I am. I don't ever want to do it to anyone else."

"Yeah. You're right," Fred muses. "It'll be nice to have another girl around the place, though. With you, Angel, Wesley, Gunn and Connor...me and Cordy are kind of outnumbered."

Lorne glances around. "Where is everyone else, anyway?"

"They went out for Thai food. I wasn't hungry." Fred shrugs.

"You? Not hungry? How is that even possible?" Lorne teases her, knowing about Fred's bottomless appetite. Fred shrugs again, this time grinning.

"I had a late afternoon snack. Well, kinda more like a whole bag of chocolate chip cookies. And a gallon of milk," she tacks on. "You can't have cookies without milk."

"See, you should be talking to Kylar about adopting eating habits like yours," Lorne recommends. "Poor little thing is nothing but a stick. She needs to learn how to swallow real food again."

"Totally," Fred agrees. "I thought I was the only stick around here. She actually makes me look curvy and voluptuous and that's saying something."

"Oh, Fredikins. You're perfect just the way you are," Lorne tells her honestly, smoothing back her lengthy brown hair with his hands.

"Thanks," Fred sighs, "but it'd still be nice to know what having breasts is like..."

Lorne and Fred chat in the corridor for a while until Fred decides to check that Kylar hasn't drowned or anything, going to the bathroom door and knocking politely.

"How are you doing in there, Kylar? Do you need help?"

The door opens a crack and Kylar peeks around it. Most of the tangles are out of her half-dried hair but there are still a few dreadlocks left, perhaps deliberately. They are spaced evenly on either side, in amongst the other waves of burgundy. That must be how Kylar wore it, Fred thinks, before she ended up in a cave with no comb or hairbrush.

"I may require some assistance," Kylar apologetically answers, holding up the bra Fred left on the counter. "What is this and where does it go?"

Smiling understandingly, Fred replies, "It goes underneath your...I'll just show you. Can I come in?"

Kylar hesitates and then nods shyly, opening the door wider, the pretty demon standing there with a towel wrapped around her narrow waist and another one around her shoulders.

"Here, let's move this down a little," Fred suggests, starting to lower the towel in order to slip the bra under it, mindful of not exposing Kylar or making the girl embarrassed. At the lack of cleavage under the fluffy material, Fred frowns slightly.

"Gee, you've got even less than I..." Suddenly, Fred halts, her gaze jerking upward, eyes round. "Oh. Oh my."

Perplexed, Kylar spreads the towel open further, glancing down and then back at Fred. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," Fred says quickly, giving a strained smile. "Please excuse me for one eency weency moment, would you?" Not waiting for Kylar's agreement, Fred swings around and leaves the bathroom, hurriedly shutting the door behind her.

"Lorne! You better get your green butt over here!"

Rushing into her room, Lorne answers, "It's here already. What's with the urgent tone?" He looks inquiringly at the closed door Fred is standing in front of and then at the young Texan woman herself. Fred's elfin face is fraught with anxiety.

"We have a little problem." She re-thinks that, admitting instead, "Well, not so much a problem as a kind of...unexpected surprise."

"Is this a good surprise or the bad variety?" Lorne asks cautiously.

"I...you should just see for yourself." Fred knocks first, giving Kylar warning, and then opens the door. Kylar is hiding behind it, uneasily peering around at Fred and Lorne.

"Did I offend you in some way?" Kylar worriedly enquires of Fred. "Or was it the sight of my sunken chest that repulsed you?"

"No, honey. It's not that at all," Fred replies gently. "You can come out. C'mon. It's all right."

Kylar slowly steps out from behind the door, minus one of the towels. The remaining one is wrapped around the younger demon's tiny waist and Lorne's keen eye notices three things straight away.

1) Those thin arms are like twigs.  
2) Every single rib is painfully showing.  
3) Kylar's chest is not only sunken but flatter than a surfboard.

So flat, in actual fact, that it ceases to be a girl's chest at all.

Kylar gives the padded bra a poke, looking uncertainly at it. "Is this some kind of torso armour?"

Normally equipped with a witty one-liner on the worst of occasions, this time Lorne can't think of a thing to say. Not a single damn thing. He gives Kylar what is meant to be a reassuring smile but it comes out more like a grimace.

"We'll be right back."

Closing the door again, Lorne hastily drags Fred outside into the hall, wheeling around to stare at her with an incredulous expression. "Fred? Did I just see what I thought I saw?"

"Surprise." She grins nervously at him. "Good thing you like boys too, huh?"

"Oh, for crying out loud. I'm supposed to be an Empath!" Lorne exclaims. "She's a HE! How on earth could I miss something like that?"

"Well, it was hard to tell," Fred offers. "I mean, his features are extraordinarily fine. For a boy demon. And that loose robe...you can't see what shape anyone is under that." She makes a pitying face. "Not that he actually has much in the way of a shape, being so dreadfully bony and all."

"Of course, his parents had to give him one of those indeterminate unisex names," Lorne says in disgust, more at himself for not noticing earlier. "Kylarkmar is to us like what Taylor or Casey is here. It can be used by anybody."

He groans in humiliation, dropping his face into his palm and rubbing his forehead.

"Don't I feel like a big, green idiot?"

Fred pats his arm compassionately. "Never mind. The main thing is, at least we know now. And at least we can dress him more suitably." Her eyes brighten. "Hey, he's about the same size as Connor. We can borrow some clothes off him. He should be back from hunting by now."

Raising his brow, Lorne comments, "Do you think that's a good idea; asking junior for a favour? We all know how he feels about us horned, non-humans. In fact, he probably decapitated a couple of us tonight."

"I'm sure he can spare a pair of jeans and a top. Angel bought him tons of them. C'mon, let's get Kylar and go ask."

When they return to the bathroom, Kylar is still standing there, peering at the bra and turning it over in his hands, trying to figure out what it is. Fred takes it off him, saying apologetically, "You won't be needing this anymore."

Kylar glances between the two of them, Fred and Lorne, puzzled as to what is going on.

"This is called a bra," Fred starts in explanation of the lacy object in her hand. "It's an undergarment worn by females to support their..." She peeks down at her own small breasts and then shamefacedly back up at Kylar. "Except you don't have any."

Standing there bare-chested, and very much flat-chested too, Kylar looks bemusedly at himself and then peers at the lumps underneath Fred's checked shirt for comparison. Finally getting it, the younger demon blinks and questions, "You thought I was a female?"

"Fred wasn't the only one," Lorne admits sheepishly. "You sure fooled us, chickpea."

"But why would you believe that?"

"Well, here in this dimension, you're what's called androgynous. It means you look kind of like our girls do. Which is not a bad thing," Lorne rapidly adds at Kylar's apprehensive expression. "A pretty face like yours on a boy like you...it makes you very special."

"I am not special," Kylar automatically denies, eyes lowering to the tiled floor as he remembers all the scornful names his own people called him for the way he looked, all the taunts and jeers. That's why he grew his hair long; so he could hide his deformed ugliness behind it.

"Whatever they said to you, Kylar, whatever they told you," Lorne firmly interjects, "don't you believe it for one second longer. You're not on Pylea anymore. You're here. In my world."

He steps forward, reaching out and placing his fingers under Kylar's chin, forcing the timid teenager to look up and meet his gaze. Kylar's now-clean face is porcelain-perfect, freckles showing through on clear pastel green skin, darker green dots edging around his brow and curving beneath his cheekbones, emphasising the exquisitely angular shape of them. His hair is still damp but it is untangled and frames his features with rippling waves of reddish-purple that fall halfway down his back, the thin twisted dreads adding texture and interest. The colour of his horns is not dulled by dust as before; the two small points gleaming like polished mahogany wood.

"And in my world you're beautiful," Lorne finishes softly.

Kylar stares up at Lorne for a long moment, drowning in the taller demon's serious scarlet eyes, startled as he realises Lorne actually thinks that. From one Empath to another, Lorne allows Kylar to feel his thoughts, to feel his admiration and approval, and for the first time Kylar starts to think that perhaps what his fellow Pylean says is true, that perhaps his birth was not a hideous mistake of nature. Perhaps he was meant to look like this for a reason, perhaps he was meant to turn out the way he did. With the intense manner that Lorne is concentrating on him, and only him, Kylar starts to think that perhaps he really is special.

Perhaps even special enough to be with Lorne.

Clearly sensing the magnetism between the two demons even though she herself is not empathic, Fred clears her throat uncomfortably and ventures, "Should I...leave the room?"

Dropping his hand and shaking his head as if to clear it from a haze, Lorne answers, "I think we should /all/ leave the room. Find this boy some more gender-appropriate clothing. Not that you wouldn't look great in a skirt, sweetie," here Lorne glances at Kylar, "but we can't have you walking around looking like that, not in this town, or you'll find yourself in all kinds of trouble. Some guy called Maurice with gold teeth and a neck full of jewellery would end up becoming your pimp."

"Pimp?" Kylar frowns. "I am unfamiliar with that term."

"Let's keep it that way, okay? Here, put this on for the moment," Fred advises, passing Kylar a plain white bath robe to cover his malnourished body.

"We're going to go visit Connor."

A/N: So, I couldn't think of anyone in the show to pair Lorne with and make it believable so I've created a character of my own. Is anybody interested in this pairing? If so, I'll post more! Thanks for reading this far! :)


	2. Kylar's Tale

Part 2.

"Who's Connor?" Kylar asks, slipping on the robe and tying the sash around his waist.

"The kid who lives here I was hoping you wouldn't see much of." Lorne sighs, tensely rubbing the area between his horns. "Guess we have to introduce you sometime."

He and Fred lead Kylar down the corridor to the teenage slayer's bedroom. Though he knows they need to obtain clothing, Lorne's more than a little worried that Connor might automatically jump to the wrong conclusion once he sees Kylar and holds a knife to the younger Pylean's throat simply because he's a strange demon in the hotel. That's the last thing Kylar needs – more scaring - but hopefully Connor has already done enough violence for tonight and doesn't go all vicious killer on them before Lorne can explain the situation. Connor has a really bad habit of jumping to conclusions and it usually ends up with somebody's blood spilt. It's best if Lorne and Fred talk to Connor and keep Kylar way back out of harm's way so he gently moves the red-eyed boy behind him. If Connor wants to attack, he's gonna have to go through Lorne first and if the punk tries something stupid like that, Lorne will pull out his one defensive card – the high-pitched, glass-shattering vocal note that will make even a vampire hunter drop to the ground and writhe in agony.

Looking to Lorne, who nods his okay, Fred knocks on the door.

"What?" comes the slightly annoyed response from inside.

"Connor, can Lorne and I talk to you for a second? We need your help with something."

There's a pause and then the door opens a crack. Two wary, bright blue eyes peer out from beneath auburn bangs. Connor starts to bristle when he looks at Lorne but when he sees Kylar peeking around Lorne's shoulder, the sneer turns to curiosity and the pale-skinned teenager opens the door wider, his deceivingly petite frame clad in jeans and a dark brown top.

"Who's that?"

Relieved that Connor isn't showing signs of aggression, Lorne brings his guest around to his side and replies, "This is Kylarkmar. From my home dimension of Pylea." After he says that last part he realises it was probably unnecessary. Anyone with half a brain can tell he and Kylar belong to the same race.

"Kylar is going to stay with us for a while so I want you to be nice, okay?"

"Sure. Okay," Connor murmurs, eyeing Kylar up and down, thinking that she's actually pretty cute. For a chick with horns. And she smells like roses. Being nice to her? Not gonna be a problem.

"Don't go getting too excited, hotshot," Lorne drawls to Connor, feeling the attraction starting to rise within the young demon tracker. "You're not looking at a lady."

Connor does a double take, staring hard at Kylar, who self-consciously pulls the robe tighter around himself, revealing the thin but unmistakably male shape of his body.

"That's why we're here. We need clothes. Boys' clothes. Kylar doesn't have any," Fred explains. "Can you lend us some? Please?"

Connor swallows and blinks at the same time, colour draining from his cheeks. He soundlessly turns, rummaging in a drawer. He returns, shoves the requested items into Fred's hands and then slams the door in their faces, clearly mortified.

"Thank you, Connor," Fred says gratefully to the door. There's no answer. Fidgeting with the belt of the robe he's wearing, Kylar isn't sure what to make of this Connor boy. There were a lot of conflicting emotions emanating from him in a very small space of time and they all left Kylar confused. He thinks that will most likely happen a lot in this world. It's a very confusing place.

As they walk down the hall towards Fred's room, Lorne chuckles. "Did you see the look on his face? Oh, priceless. That almost makes up for the time the little prick called me a filthy demon."

"He doesn't like demons?" Kylar inquires anxiously.

"Don't worry about him," Lorne assures. "He was kidnapped by a loony and raised in a hell dimension. Hasn't quite gotten over it yet."

"Go screw yourself," Connor shouts out in a pissed voice, able to hear Lorne talking ten doors down the hall with his super-hearing.

"Same to you, schnookums," the older demon calls back sweetly. He gives Kylar a dry smile. "As you can see he's quite fond of his Uncle Lorne."

"You are his uncle?"

"Well, not really. But I did change his diapers when he was a sweet, innocent baby. Gee, it only seems like months ago." Lorne's tone grows more sarcastic. "Hold on, that's because it WAS."

"Time is different on Qor'toth. Where he grew up," Fred clarifies. She looks at Kylar quizzically. "Oh. Connor is Angel's son. Did we mention that? I don't think we did."

"Truly?" Kylar's face shows surprise at this news. "Is he a Van-tal too?"

"No, Connor's not a vampire." Lorne shakes his head. "However, he does have supernatural in his blood somewhere. He ain't all human that's for sure. I've seen him punch into a demon's chest with his bare hand and rip its still-beating heart out."

Kylar's crimson eyes turn big and afraid.

"But he'll be nice to you, cherry pie," Lorne hurriedly tells him. "I'll make sure of it. Otherwise he's getting Elton John's greatest hits played outside his room at three in the morning for two weeks straight. At full volume. Hear that, sunshine?"

He's metres away from Connor's room but Lorne can clearly detect the kid's growl through the walls.

Fred puts one hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. She doesn't want to encourage Lorne and Connor's little feud but gosh darn it, they're just so amusing. It's like living with two teenage brothers. It's as though they LIKE antagonising each other.

"Since you're not a girl, you wanna get changed in my bathroom?" Lorne offers when they get close to his doorway. "At least until we find you a room of your own."

Kylar nods, quite agreeable to whatever Lorne suggests and lets himself get steered in the right direction, closing the door behind him and gazing around at this much more masculine tiled room. It's all decorated in black and gold with not a hint of pink or anything flowery. He can't help sneaking a sniff of the contents in a few small glass bottles on the counter top, some of the scents stinging his sensitive nose. He finds one bottle that smells just like Lorne – sultry and spicy, an intoxicating combination of aromas that make his head swim - and the teen demon deduces that this is his idol's favoured man-perfume. Males don't wear perfume on Pylea, preferring the pungent smell of sweat, body odour and pig-fat, which, needless to say, turns Kylar's stomach and makes him want to regurgitate. Lorne's scent does not have that ill effect on him. Lorne's scent makes his belly flip over but in a good way. An excited way. He can't believe he's standing in Krevlornswath's bathing room, touching his personal items. He'd love to spend all day doing that, opening drawers and cupboards and learning more about the singing demon who has fascinated him since childhood, but he reluctantly puts the bottles down and turns to the pile of clothes that Fred gave him.

He touches the fabrics, feeling how incredibly soft they are, materials like these generally not available in his home world. Clothing is usually constructed of coarse, rough textiles that itch the skin but these will not prickle or chafe. He brings the dark blue top up to his face and breathes in the smell of it. It contains the slight fragrance of the boy it previously belonged to but overpowering that is the soapy scent of laundry powder. It's a fresh, clean scent and Kylar takes the robe off and slips the shirt on, pulling it over his head and delighting in the delicious softness against his back and arms as he pokes his hands out of the sleeve-holes. There is also a pair of short undergarments – Fred called them boxers – and a faded pair of trousers known as denim jeans which apparently are the most common items of attire in this world to wear. They are lovely and soft too, as if they have been washed many times over river rocks and spread out in the sun to dry so he steps into them, marvelling at the magnificent things of luxury this LA has to offer.

While Kylar is getting dressed, Lorne busies himself making another drink, not just to replace the one he spilled all over his pants but to help him get over the rude shock of finding out his empathic abilities aren't always one hundred percent accurate. Maybe if Kylar had sung for him, he would have known in two seconds flat that the kid was a boy but Lorne wouldn't have dreamt of asking the frightened creature to do such a thing. Oh, you've just escaped from a living hell? How about a few bars of 'Candle in the Wind'? Yeah. Like Kylar even _knows _any songs. Music doesn't exist on Pylea, not in any way, shape or form. One of the numerous things Lorne despises about the place.

"Hey. Here he comes," Fred whispers, nudging Lorne so he turns around to witness Kylar's entrance. Lorne stops and stares, his cocktail momentarily forgotten at the captivating sight emerging from his bathroom. In jeans and a long-sleeved navy t-shirt, Kylar definitely looks more like a young man. Still stunningly beautiful, though, especially now that he's bathed and hygienic again; his wavy, waist-length hair possessing a silken sheen that wasn't there before and his pale-green skin clear and flawless.

"Look at you, cutie-boy. You're even more adorable than before," Fred teases, causing Kylar's cheeks to turn a little greener.

"These are too large for me," he confides in bashfulness, lifting the front of his top and pulling the loose band of the jeans away from his hollow belly. "I fear they will fall down and I will trip."

Finding his tongue again, Lorne replies, "I'll get you a belt." Walking across to his dresser drawers he adds, "Can't have you falling over, kiddo. Your brittle bones will snap like pencils."

"They won't be brittle for long," Fred promises, helping Kylar to slide the tan leather strip Lorne handed over through the loops in the too-baggy jeans and fastening the buckle. "Not once we introduce you to some good old fashioned pizza and burritos. Any excuse for a pig-out is fine by me! Lord knows, I could stand to gain some weight too."

Kylar is not sure what the strange items are that Fred just mentioned but he assumes they are types of food and his gut gives a sharp pang, reminding him that he hasn't eaten in days.

Sensing the pang Lorne exclaims, "Where are my manners? You must be absolutely starving." He ruefully scans Kylar's skinny limbs. "Want something to eat, little guy?"

Nodding, Kylar returns politely, "Please. It has been a long time since I had a full stomach."

"One full stomach coming right up," Lorne promises, ushering Kylar out the door and towards the stairs, intending to hit the kitchen and start beefing this wafer-thin creature back up to normal size again before he blows away in the next strong breeze. As they reach the bottom of the stairs, the sound of laughter and clomping feet begins to enter the building as the rest of the hotel's inhabitants come back from their Thai food excursion.

"Ooo, let's go introduce you to the gang first," Lorne says excitedly, tugging on Kylar's arm. "Cordy is going to die!"

The naïve demon boy looks startled.

"Well, not literally," Lorne hastily amends. "It's just a figure of speech, okay? C'mon. It's meet and greet time."

Standing in the lobby, Kylar timidly clings to Lorne's side, not sure how everyone is going to take him just showing up in their home uninvited. Angel senses Kylar first, turning from the chattering group and gazing at him in curiosity. The others slowly catch on and turn to see what Angel is looking at. Kylar is half-hiding behind Lorne's bigger figure so all they can really see is a curtain of lustrous mulberry hair surrounding a softly patterned olive face, a pair of perfect little horns, spectacular charcoal-rimmed crimson eyes peeking through lengthy lashes and full wine-stained lips being chewed on in nervous tension. Wesley raises his brows in astonishment, Gunn utters, "Whoa. Hot demon alert," and Cordelia remarks, "Oh my god! Lorne, who IS this?" She makes a perplexed face at the more mature Pylean. "Are your cousins portal-jumping again?"

"Not my cousin. Also, to make it very clear - Gunn - not a girl." Here Lorne arches the stunned black dude an amused glance, coaxing Kylar out from behind his coat tails so everyone can see the boy's lack of womanly curves. Lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, Kylar bravely stands there as he's openly stared at by strangers, like a cow on the market. He's not sensing any hostility, though. They're just curious about him.

"Guys, this handsome young man here is Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan. Kylar for short."

Lorne turns to the younger demon, gesturing with drink in hand to each of his friends as they come up for a closer look. "You remember Angel, and that's Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia."

"Hello there," Wesley greets in a friendly English manner.

"He knows me?" Angel repeats in a flattered voice. "Well, I guess I DID battle the fearsome Groosalugg." He looks around smugly. "Kinda famous for that."

"Wow," Cordy comments, eyeing Kylar with a mix of envy and awe. "I hate to say this, Lorne, but he's even prettier than me."

"Yeah, except those lunkheads on Pylea didn't see him that way," Lorne says indignantly. "They called him unattractive. Can you believe that crap?"

"Well, if they said that they're just plain stupid," Cordelia declares to Kylar, hand on one hip. "I mean, look at your hair. It's a-mazing."

Kylar bashfully twists a maroon dreadlock between his slim fingers. "You were the princess," he says in a reverential voice.

Giving Wesley a triumphant glare, Cordy remarks haughtily, "At least /someone/ remembers my high and mighty reign."

Ignoring her, Wesley goes up to Kylar and Lorne, asking, "How did he get here?"

"Portal," Lorne fills him in. "He saw us using it and decided to give it a go. Kid's been working on it for a year and a half. How's that for determined, huh?"

"Well done, Kylar," Wes returns, impressed by his success and tenacity. "I'd like to talk to you more about that. Are you staying long?"

"I am not sure," the boy-demon hesitantly replies, glancing at Angel. "It depends how long I am permitted to stay. The master of the house must grant me lodgings."

"Hey, my home is your home," Angel offers with a sweeping gesture at their surroundings. "Old hotel. Plenty of rooms. You can pick any one you like."

"I can choose my own room?"

"Sure." Angel smiles.

"I am most grateful. I was made to sleep in a stable on Pylea," Kylar admits.

"With those demony horses?" Cordelia wrinkles her nose. "Ick. They stink. I should know. I had to shovel their poo."

For the first time Kylar gives a smile. It's a small, tentative one but a smile nonetheless. "After a while you don't notice it."

"Well, there are no stinky stables here, alfalfa sprout," Lorne breezily informs him. "We have real beds and carpeted floors. We even have a kitchen and you can go get something from the fridge whenever you're hungry."

"Uh, just don't drink the red stuff in the jars," Angel uncomfortably advises, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gunn finally comes over, having recovered from the humiliation of being caught ogling a boy. "Why you demons gotta be so ambiguous?" he grumbles. "Can't tell what da hell you are sometimes. And yeah, Lorne. I'm talkin' bout you when I say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Looking at Lorne standing there in his flamboyantly bright hot-pink shirt, Gunn drawls, "Like I really hafta explain."

Lorne starts to frown, not sure what Gunn is getting at but nobody pays any attention to him, instead crowding around Kylar and asking the baffled boy loads of questions.

Wesley: "How did you get the portal to work without the book? Did it open in the same spot or somewhere else?"

Angel: "Suns still shining on Pylea? I miss those suns. Remember how I used to stand in the light and not burst into flames?"

Gunn: "What about the evil priesty dudes – are they back? Cause I could kick their asses all over again if need be."

Cordelia: "Is Groo still doing a good job of leading the townsfolk? He hasn't com-shukked anyone else has he?"

Kylar does his best to answer the many queries, explaining how he opened the portal in the woods at the exact same location and saying yes, the two suns are still in the sky and no, the priests have not returned and well, since he's been in the forest for a long time he's not sure what the almighty Groosalugg has been up to lately. Eventually he leans into Lorne and whispers, "All these people…There are too many emotions. It overwhelms me."

"They sometimes overwhelm me too, sugar," Lorne whispers back. To everyone else he says authoritatively, "Okay, people. Interrogation is over. Give Kylar some breathing space, all right? You're suffocating his senses, practically standing on top of him like this."

"Oh, right. He's an Empath demon, like you," Wesley says in understanding, taking a few steps backward.

"Exactamundo," Lorne confirms with a nod, putting a shielding arm around his sensitively-attuned friend. "Your thoughts and feelings are flying around all him like bats in a belfry. He's not used to this crazy world like I am. At least, not yet."

"Come on, guys. Let's leave him alone," Fred suggests, taking Cordelia's arm with one hand and Gunn's with the other. "I'm sure he's had enough excitement for one night."

"Whatever. Don't wanna mess up nobody's aura," Gunn retorts, stomping off in his jackboots and muttering something about weird-ass hippie demons.

"Night, Kylar," Cordy calls out over her shoulder. "We'll swap hair tips in the morning, okay?"

Shaking his head as they depart, Lorne comments, "Wild bunch. But they're good folk, Kylar. They will be the best friends you ever had."

"Friends?" Kylar creases his brow as if thinking. "I don't know what it's like to have those."

"You will soon. In fact, you got one right now."

"Who?"

Lorne smiles at him, brushing back a lock of Kylar's hair. "Me, silly."

Getting that overwhelmed expression again, Kylar questions tremulously, "You…you are my friend?"

"You better believe it," Lorne insists. "And as your friend it's my first duty to provide you with some much-needed food. By the way, this is called a refrigerator." He takes Kylar over to the tall white humming cabinet in the kitchen, opening the door and searching through the range of chilled perishable goods for something not out of date or containing animal products.

"What would you like? I know you're a vegetarian but what about cheese? You eat cheese?"

"Yes," Kylar replies, spying over Lorne's shoulder at all the colourful packages and tubs on the shelves. "I eat cheese."

Thinking of the hard, mouldy-smelling rounds available back on Pylea, Lorne anticipates, "You're gonna love Brie, then." He collects the circle of foil-wrapped dairy goodness, pulling a bottle of sparkling white wine from the door shelf and tucking it under his arm.

Spotting the jars of red fluid semi-hidden at the back, Kylar points and asks, "Is that…?"

Lorne makes a face at the canisters of blood Angel has put there, the vampire's weekly food rations, supplied through the friendly local butchers. "Don't ask. Don't touch. It's not human though," he reassures Kylar, shutting the door. From the pantry, he grabs a box of sesame seed crackers and a bag of cashew nuts, adding those to his stockpile along with a cheese knife, wooden cutting board and two wine goblets, stacking the lot onto a serving platter for ease of carrying.

Kylar spies the fruit bowl on the bench, drawn to the bizarre and appealing shapes, the tropical fragrances making his mouth water. He goes to pick one up but squints suspiciously at the bright colours.

"Are these fruits poisonous?"

"No, of course not. That's an apple and that's rather inventively called an orange," Lorne spells out, indicating to the various types. "Take the whole bowl back to my room. You can eat and talk at the same time, right? I'm dying to know what your story is."

With their hands full Lorne and Kylar return to Lorne's room. The older one tells Kylar to have a seat and the boy chooses to sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the front of the lounge. Lorne sits down with him too, opening the cheese, nuts and crackers, arranging it all artistically on the platter. Wine in hand, Lorne tells Kylar to dig in, instructing the teenager how to peel a banana and take the skin off an orange. Hungrier than he's ever been before, Kylar attacks the food with gusto, astounded at how succulent the fruit is and how creamy the cheese is, even the crispiness of the sesame seed crackers a sensation he hasn't experienced before. When he samples sweet white wine for the first time – instead of poorly-made Pylean ale - and feels the bubbles bursting on his tongue Lorne swears the kid looks like he's having a taste overload.

"Good, huh?"

"Very good," Kylar eagerly concurs, tipping his head back and gulping down the rest of the wine like it's water.

Pouring Kylar a second glass, Lorne pronounces, "Another great thing about this world - you can drink all the alcohol you want and it won't affect you. Not the way it does humans. They'll be falling all over the place and passing out under the table and we'll still be completely clear-headed. A little happy, maybe, but that's it."

"Is that why you drink?" Kylar glances at Lorne's half-empty goblet. "To be happy?"

Oh, I'm always happy. I love this place," Lorne enthuses with a wave of his hand. "Wine and cocktails are just like the icing on a thick, gooey mudcake to me." He grins at Kylar.

"And so is having you here, honeybunch."

Kylar is not exactly sure what that statement means, or even what a honeybunch is, but the warmth coming towards him from Lorne means it is some kind of compliment and the boy drops his eyes with a shy smile, picking up a fruit that is bulbous and yellow in colour, inspecting it to see how it unwraps.

"That's a pear. You don't need to peel it," Lorne helpfully explains.

"Pear," Kylar repeats, smelling its ripe sweetness.

"So, tell me your tale, ruby lips," Lorne urges as the boy bites into the crisp white flesh. "Tell me what happened to make you want to leave Pylea so much. I mean, apart from the senseless violence, mind-numbing stupidity and total lack of anything pleasant or cultured."

Around mouthfuls of fruit, Kylar begins, "As I said, I was different. A boy-child of my age should have been trained as a warrior, a hunter, a champion. I could be none of those things, even if I wanted to be. I was too small, too soft. I lacked the savagery and bloodthirstiness that a warrior is required to have. I possess empathic powers, as we all do, but unlike my brethren who use it for tracking and killing, mine enables me to talk to creatures, to sense what they are feeling. When the warriors hunted, I could feel the animal's fear and agony, if I was close enough."

Kylar pauses and puts the half-eaten pear back in the fruit bowl, a furrow appearing in his brow. "It distressed me. So, I stayed away, took no part in the rituals. I wouldn't eat of the meat they would bring back. The smell alone made me sick. This made me the subject of much ridicule and calling of names. I even had bones and fresh entrails thrown at me, sometimes by my own brothers and sisters. For being an herbivore, I brought shame on my clan and was considered useless as well as ugly."

Lorne makes a displeased scowl, thinking about going back to Kylar's village and belting out a very shrill high note, popping all their narrow-minded eardrums for treating this gorgeous, darling boy like a piece of dung. He drains the last of his wine in an impatient swallow, wanting to hear what else Kylar has to say but knowing he's not going to like it one bit.

"Shortly after my fifteenth birthday, I was sold to a farmer. As a slave. This was years before the princess decreed slavery illegal, although I don't believe that would have made a difference. It hasn't prevented our people from doing it to this very day, only instead of humans they have been selling their children. Pretending they are there to work and earn money when all the money goes to the clan, not the child."

"They sell kids now?" Lorne's face is the picture of outraged repugnance. "Doesn't Groo stop this from happening?"

"The mighty Groosalugg does try to halt this spawn-trafficking but the villagers are cunning and conceal it well from him. Even if he had been the all-powerful ruler of Pylea back when I was sold, he would not have been informed about it. My sale took place at midnight, when there were no moons in the sky and no witnesses but the field-rats."

Kylar is twisting one of his dreadlocks as he speaks, gazing dully at the carpet in remembrance. "As she handed me over to the farmer, my life-giver said that was all I was good for, shovelling manure, like a cow."

"Great parenting," Lorne mutters, wondering how someone extraordinary like Kylar could have come out of the dried-up loins of a cold she-bitch such as that.

"I thought perhaps I would have a better life, away from my mother's cutting tongue and my father's callous hand," Kylar continues in a quiet tone. "I soon learned that my new master was a hard man. He made me work until I would drop with exhaustion. And then he would flog me until I got up again."

Lorne stiffens, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

"If I refused to work, he would take away my food, my water. I was chained in the stable every night so I couldn't leave." Kylar unconsciously rubs his left wrist, Lorne appalled to see it bearing white scars from his captivity.

"He threatened that if I ever tried to escape, his Hell Beasts would find me. Then he would rip my horns out, let me bleed to death on the ground and feed my worthless carcass to the pigs."

Lorne curses furiously, using swear words Kylar has never heard before, the fire in the older demon's red eyes hot enough to burn, gripping his empty glass that tightly that it cracks in his hand. His vehemence scares Kylar slightly but the younger male knows all that fury is aimed directly at the farmer, not him.

When he stops swearing and snarling, Lorne takes a breath and closes his eyes, forcing himself to settle. "Sorry, apple cake," he mumbles to Kylar, carefully putting the cracked glass on the coffee table before he slices his palm with it.

"I promise I won't interrupt again. Please go on."

"I had a lot of different chores to do on the farm: planting crops, picking the produce, chopping wood, fixing fences and of course, shovelling manure. I used to feed the animals and assist with the birthing of new litters. I would perform daily health checks and collect any unfertilized eggs for the clan's breakfast," Kylar says. "I also used to milk the viper. I was the only one who could do it without getting bitten."

Viper milk is not actually milk; it's venom which is highly prized on Pylea for medicinal and hallucinogenic purposes, once it has been properly processed. Collecting it is a dangerous job. Pure venom straight from the snake is lethal and its strike is lightning-fast. One bite and you're dead within two minutes or sooner. Usually sooner. There is an antidote to the poison but there is generally not enough time to administer it before the heart stops. Kylar's ability to charm animals and lull them into calming ensured he never felt the sting of twin fangs in his flesh.

"I always felt awful doing it, forcing a living creature to release venom on demand. Most of all, I felt awful because I could sense the viper's feelings of frustration and entrapment whenever I put him back in the cage. That viper was just as imprisoned and alone as I was. He wanted out and so did I. So, we made a deal. I told the viper I would help set him free but in return he had to help me first. He agreed."

"You made a deal with a snake?" Lorne interjects incredulously. Kylar just nods, as if this is something completely normal, conversing with reptiles.

"Snakes are very intelligent creatures. He understood my plan and what I wanted him to do. The next time he was due for milking I slipped him into my robe. He had promised not to bite me and I trusted him. He stayed there all day, wrapped around my waist, waiting for my instructions. He could have slipped out and escaped at any time but he didn't. Snakes are also creatures of honour and he intended to keep up his side of the bargain. After all, I had never harmed him in the past."

Lorne shakes his head with wide eyes, finding the concept of smart, honourable snakes hard to accept.

"Our chance came when the farmer arrived to chain me in the stable for the evening. He was a big man and I was not strong enough to fight him so I usually offered my wrist with no resistance. This time I didn't. I refused to let him snap on the handcuff. When he reached for his whip to beat me into submission I reached into my robe and took out the viper. I flung it at him and the viper latched straight onto his neck, injecting all the venom I was supposed to collect earlier right into his major artery."

Kylar swallows hard; the food he's just eaten threatening to come back up as his stomach roils. He is not a violent person and can't stand causing any living thing pain or death – even a simple insect or bug - but in this case the violence against a fellow member of demonkind was justified and necessary. Kylar's owner hurt him and so Kylar hurt him back. It was the only way to get out the nightmarish, hopeless situation he had been stuck in for two years.

"His part of the deal done, the viper slithered away to freedom while I watched my master die. The poison went quickly to his heart and he was dead in seconds. Unfortunately, he fell backwards when he died, knocking over a pile of metal buckets and the noise made the rest of his family come charging out to the stables. I ran into the woods but they realised what I had done and came after me. They had torches and pitchforks and Hell Beasts snapping at my ankles."

"Holy crap," Lorne breathes, imagining how terrified Kylar must have been with an angry mob of demons and snarling dogs chasing him into the forest.

"I just kept running and somehow managed to evade them. The day I got away from my master was the day I saw you leave with your friends through the portal." Kylar glances up at Lorne. "Ever since then I have been trying to join you."

"And here you are." Lorne shakes his head again, stunned by this gutsy kid's dramatic tale of captivity and escape. "You're a very brave young man, Kylarkmar."

"I don't believe so," Kylar replies quietly. "I believe I just had fortune on my side."

"Fortune, schmortune," Lorne disagrees. "You did all that, darlin'. You got out of there yourself."

Kylar gives an elegant shrug. "The viper helped. I am glad we gained our freedom that same day. I think we both earned it."

The eighteen year old demon is sitting there composed and collected, looking on the outside like's perfectly okay with what's happened to him, like he's accepted it and dealt with it but Lorne knows that under that cool green skin it's a completely different scenario. All the negative effects, all the noxious remnants of living in a horrible place like Pylea, all the shame, the terror, the pain, everything that's been done to him; it's all locked up in his head and heart, slowly poisoning him like arsenic. He's not making a sound but on the inside he's screaming, he's begging for help. The silent shriek of suffering pierces into Lorne's mind, acute and agonized, making him flinch and grab at his forehead.

Kylar looks to him in unease. "Krevlornswath? What is wrong?"

"Oh nothing. Just the excruciating stabbing in my brain, which, by the way, is coming from YOU, Kylar."

"I am sorry." Kylar's gaze shifts down to his hands, ashamed for not holding onto his emotions better. "These burdens…they are mine to bear."

"Oh, turtledove. Nobody should have to bear those," Lorne says in sympathy, squeezing Kylar's thin arm. "We need to do something about this right away." He gets up, turning to glance back at Kylar who is looking at him in bewilderment.

"Wait here, okay? Don't you dare go anywhere."

Exiting the room, Lorne hurries down the hall to Cordelia's door, knocking softly, hoping she's not asleep yet. As she welcomes him in, the brunette woman is blowing on her fingernails, making sure her recently applied polish is dry. She's in her pyjamas.

"Thank goodness you're still up," Lorne says gratefully. "Hate to bother you, doll, but I need to ask a massive favour."

"Anything, my good green buddy," Cordelia replies with a white-toothed smile, blowing on her nails again. "What can I do you for? Oh! Does Kylar need some hair products? I got tons right-"

Interrupting her, Lorne says, "No. No hair dramas. Just another, more important drama. You know that thing you did with Connor - how you sucked all the toxicity out of him when he first came here? Can you do that with Kylar? Little fella is being so courageous but he's been though some truly horrific stuff on Pylea and he's really hurting."

Finally forgetting about her coral-coloured fingernails, Cordelia tilts her head and asks, "You want me to go all glowy on him?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Lorne sounds apologetic. "I'd do it myself but soul colonics…not really a speciality of mine."

The young woman's eyes soften. "He's a sweetie pie. Of course I won't mind."

"It might not be very pleasant," Lorne warns her.

Shrugging, she replies, "Can't be any worse than those ear-bleeding visions I used to have before I got myself demonized. Have I mentioned lately how much I /don't/ miss those?"

"Oh, you're a life saver, Cordy," Lorne gushes, giving her a quick hug. "If Kylar doesn't get this done…Who knows what'll happen to him. Nothing good, I can predict that much."

"Don't worry, I'll suck him clean in no time." Cordelia's confident smile wilts. "Uh…Can we pretend I didn't just say that?"

When Cordelia enters the room with Lorne, Kylar immediately gets to his feet, bowing his head respectfully as if in the presence of royalty. As nice as that is, Cordelia puts her hand under his chin and makes the demon boy look up.

"Kylar, you don't need to do that," she says gently. "In this dimension I'm not a princess, okay? I'm just me."

Stepping up to a bemused Kylar, Lorne tells him, "Cordy's not here to be worshipped. She's here to help you."

Kylar's scarlet gaze flicks from Lorne to Cordelia. "Help me? How?"

"Everything you've got in here," Lorne puts his palm over Kylar's chest, "all the bad stuff…Give it to her. Let her take it from you."

Kylar's eyes get bigger. "She can do that?"

"Hey, I'm the Cursed One, remember? 3D visions - not the only power I was lumped with." She takes Kylar's hand in her own, saying in a reassuring voice, "It's okay, sweetie. It won't hurt. Whatever happens, whatever you see, just keep looking at me."

Kylar stares into her liquid brown eyes, wondering what the former princess of Pylea is going to do to help him. He can sense that she that she has special powers – great powers - but he's not sure exactly what type they are or how they work. The first thing he notices is that the deep colour of her eyes changes, lightens, her irises turning white and glowing as if taken over or possessed by a higher being. Shocked by this unexpected event, Kylar nonetheless does what Cordelia told him to and keeps his gaze trustingly on hers, Lorne standing right by his side for support. The glow in Cordelia's eyes enlarges, crowning her head like an aura and spreading down over her whole body. It moves down her arm and into her fingers, then into Kylar's hand, the white light flooding up his arm and quickly enveloping him from head to foot. It feels warm and soothing and not at all frightening.

He senses Cordelia and himself becoming one, becoming linked and connected. He can feel her in his mind, seeing all the horrors he suffered back on his home world; all the degradation and humiliation, all the loneliness and isolation, the dark-haired woman silently urging him to let go of it, to give it to her. Kylar allows her to start taking it, lets her remove it from his psyche because he doesn't want it anymore. He doesn't need it anymore. He begins to feel lighter and dizzier as the heavy weight of negativity starts being drawn out of his chest and head, travelling down his arm and into Cordelia's receiving hand. It doesn't hurt in a physical sense but as all that inner torment passes through him and into someone else it's overpowering, the strange pulling sensation sapping his strength and weakening him so he begins to fold to the floor, unsteady legs giving out underneath him. As he crumples, Lorne swoops down in alarm, catching him around the chest, supporting him, letting the younger male sink to his knees. With both his arms around the kid's frail form, Lorne gets a shock feeling how fragile and bony he really is, like he could be snapped in half if Lorne squeezed too tightly.

Not yet finished, Cordelia follows Kylar, kneeling with him, still holding his hand and steadily gazing into the teenager's awe-struck face. The mystic radiance surrounding her and Kylar attaches itself to Lorne, the white light creeping into the arms he has wrapped around the long-haired boy-demon and suddenly Lorne is there, part of it, feeling what Kylar is feeling, what he has felt in the past, experiencing the misery and torture for himself. Flashes of the eighteen year old's life fill Lorne's head, just like when someone is singing, when he does a reading of them. These flashes come with smell, with sound, with actual bodily sensations; the prickling of hay used for a bed, earthy animal scent of horses, the roar of rushing water, the thick sweetness of wild honey.

Taunting voices and spiteful laughter, small blows from thrown rocks. The critical chastisement of a mother, words dripping with scorn and disappointment. A father shouting angrily, a backhanded slap across the face.

Metal chain chafing painfully at bound wrists, the revolting stench of fresh offal. Hard floor under cold flesh.

Pitch black darkness, stomach-gnawing hunger and parching thirst. Isolation, loneliness, imprisonment.

Stinging lashes from a whip, the thud of booted feet connecting with flesh, skin bruising and splitting, bones breaking, the taste of blood and fear and tears.

"Dear God," Lorne breathes in horror, unable to believe someone could carry so much pain inside themselves and still survive.

Kylar gasps, jerking in Lorne's embrace as the last of the anguish is forcefully sucked out of him through his fingertips.

And then abruptly it is over, all of it gone. The glow around the three beings fades, disappears. Cordelia pulls back her hand, letting out a slow breath, blinking as her eyes turn brown again.

Lorne leans forward, peering anxiously at Kylar's face. The young Pylean appears stunned and shaken, green complexion a little paler than usual. "You okay, darlin'?" he asks in a soft tone. "You all right?"

Kylar slowly turns to look at Lorne, seeing the concern in the older demon's eyes. The compassion. The caring. And then he starts to cry, exactly the way Connor did when Cordelia healed him. Tears pour down his cheeks as he impulsively reaches for Lorne, pressing into his neck, the boy's whole body shuddering with sobs. Whispering reassurances, Lorne holds him tight with both arms, letting Kylar release his relief at finally being free of his tormented past.

"I'll leave you two alone," Cordelia says quietly, getting to her feet. Lorne looks up at his friend, his face full of gratitude.

"Thank you," he mouths in silence, comfortingly stroking Kylar's long, glossy hair.

The brunette woman smiles, leaving the room and the pair of demons hugging on the floor.


	3. Scarred Past

A/N: Due to continued interest in this strange little fic, I have been prompted to update and post a brand new chapter! (Plus, I've been on 2 weeks holidays from work so I've actually had time to do it) Much thanks to these lovely people for their encouragement and support:

Wistful-Dreamer – Oh yes, I love Lorne being macho! Or taking the 'male' role in a relationship, anyway. Kylar's so small, pretty and feminine he must make Lorne feel like a big, strong manly man. LOL! I'm not sure about the mpreg thing though…It's a plausible concept since they're both demons but poor Kylar has been through enough pain as it is without giving birth!

RazorbladeKisses – Thank you for saying my fic is AHMAZING! That's a big compliment. I hope you've added me on story alert so you know when I've updated. :)

PatienceDominique – Of course, there's every chance of me continuing this fic. And indeed, I just have. Enjoy! ^__^

Lauren – Thank you very much for your messages! Are you PatienceDominique as well? If that's the case then you get two thank you's! I'm flattered that you think I'm a genius (but I'm really not – just a girl who likes pretty boys and Lorne and decided to put them both together!) Hope you like this chapter.

I have a confession to make - I didn't know until just recently that Andy Hallett had passed away and was greatly saddened to learn this. He made Lorne so very real and human (for a horned, green-skinned demon with red eyes) and gave him such a perfect blend of pizzazz, humour and emotion and I miss Lorne, and the whole show. I dedicate this story to Andy and hope he'd approve of how I'm writing his beloved character.

Oh, and you simply MUST check out this fantastic piece of fanart that the wonderfully talented Happy Monkey of Doom made for this fic:

muffinpoodle(dot)devian tart(dot)com/art/Kylarkmar-of-the-Muthwok-Clan-150158519

(remove the space between 'devian' and 'tart' because FFnet hates that site and will block it :P)

Omg! It's Kylar!! And Lorne! And Kylar's in a towel! *huggles them both* Aren't they gorgeous? Thank you, my dear. I love it to bits and pieces. *huggles you now*

Kay, onto the story!

………………

In the previous chapter: Kylar slowly turns to look at Lorne, seeing the concern in the older demon's eyes. The compassion. The caring. And then he starts to cry, exactly the way Connor did when Cordelia healed him. Tears pour down his cheeks as he impulsively reaches for Lorne, pressing into his neck, the boy's whole body shuddering with sobs. Whispering reassurances, Lorne holds him tight with both arms, letting Kylar release his relief at finally being free of his tormented past.

Part 3.

"Feel less icky and contaminated now?" Lorne asks, wiping away the drying tear-tracks from Kylar's cheeks.

At the concerned query, the young Pylean nods gracefully.

"Much less," he answers in that soft, husky voice, gazing at the older demon with gratefulness, long dark lashes still wet from crying. "Thank you, Krevlornswath."

Lorne dismisses that statement with a quick shake of his head. "I didn't do anything. That aural spring-cleaning…that was all Cordelia. She used to be a divine being, you know."

Kylar glances towards the door the dark-haired woman disappeared through. "Then I should go and express my thankfulness to her."

"Oh, she knows. Don't worry. You can thank her in the morning." Realising how late it is, Lorne adds, "Even divine beings need rest."

The two of them are still kneeling on the floor. Lorne cups Kylar's small face in his bigger hands, his keen red gaze assessing the boy's emotional and physical state, noting the exhaustion dulling those pretty crimson eyes, the gauntness of Kylar's features seeming even more stark and pronounced.

"You look tired too, pumpernickel," Lorne tells him gently. "You wanna go pick out a room now?"

Kylar gazes around at the walls and furnishings, at all the opulent shades of purples and reds, the richness of Lorne's bedroom both warm and soothing.

"I like this one. The colours remind me of berries."

"My room?" Lorne questions in surprise. "You want to stay here?"

"If you will permit me. I do not wish to be left by myself in this peculiar dimension," Kylar confesses. "Not yet."

"Of course you can stay with me. C'mon," the karaoke-singing demon says, getting to his feet and holding out his hand to the other young man. "You can have the bed. I'll take the couch."

As he is the host here, Lorne offers Kylar some pyjamas but the kid seems quite happy to sleep in the jeans and top Connor lent him. Lorne's mattress is a queen size but he thinks it's a little too soon for them to be sharing a bed so as he promised Kylar, it's all his. Once he's tucked the former slave-boy beneath the covers, Lorne wishes him a good night's slumber, grabs a pillow and blanket, turns the lamps off and makes himself comfortable on the couch. It's been a long night for them both and after listening to the deepening sound of Kylar's breaths, satisfied that the teenager isn't going anywhere, Lorne soon falls asleep himself.

Sometime later, he wakes up with a start, the remnants of a disturbing dream still swirling in his mind – something about snakes and piles of pig intestines, leaving him feeling slightly sickened and unsettled. Moonlight filters in through the window of his darkened room, affording him enough illumination to make out the bed. It looks alarmingly flat. He sits up straight, anxiety flooding his system as he squints at the bed again. It's definitely empty.

Kylar's gone.

Where the hell is he? Lorne wonders in rapidly increasing dread. Oh God, something has happened to him!

The older demon is about to leap off the couch and go running along the hall in panic, yelling at the gang to mount a full-scale search and rescue mission when he goes to put his bare foot down and almost stands on Kylar sleeping on the carpet next to him. Dropping his forehead into his palm, Lorne sinks back onto the cushions and curses under his breath in relief, all the panic draining away at the reassuring sight of the boy's slumbering form. Kylar is on his side, knees up to his chest and slim hands folded under his chin. Most of his hair is swept under his cheek, acting like a kind of pillow, and his eyes are closed, lengthy lashes fanning across the top of his cheekbones. Despite the odd position he's lying in and the hardness of the floor, Kylar appears to be resting quite peacefully, his expression smooth and relaxed. He's not restless or mumbling or tensely twitching in his sleep as one might expect from someone who's been locked in a stable and used as a punching bag for two years, but is very still and quiet, the only sound in the room being his soft, regular breaths. He is turned towards Lorne, as if seeking comfort from the older Pylean's presence.

Finding it sweetly touching that Kylar would prefer to sleep closer to him instead of on the bed, Lorne allows a slight smile to grace his lips, his fondness for this beautiful small-horned forest creature increasing with each passing moment. Leaning down on his elbow, he reaches over the edge of the couch with his other hand, carefully brushing a wavy lock of hair out of the other boy's face, the berry-brown stands like silk to the touch, Lorne grazing the back of his knuckles against Kylar's cheek as he does so. The eighteen year old's pale green skin is velvety-soft with the flawless smoothness of a child half his age. Though he has reached the stage of puberty he'll never get rough stubble or have to shave, like human teenagers do. Pyleans are generally a bare-faced species with no eyebrows and little to nothing in the way of facial hair. Only those born with large amounts of testosterone and a bulky, masculine build are able to grow beards, such as Lorne's cousin Landok.

Or his mom.

Lorne grins, imagining what his dear old battleaxe would say about him having emotional feelings for a boy-child. The fact that there's no word for 'gay' in the Pylean language explains it all. No doubt if she knew about his sexual orientation – or the ambiguity of it, anyway - Lorne's mother would think of even more inventive ways to spit upon his name and express her shame at having eaten the wrong son.

His smile falters as he dwells upon how lucky he is to have escaped that dreadful world. Kylar wasn't so lucky. He didn't just stumble across an open portal like Lorne did; he had to keep trying, he had to be patient and wait many months before he could get out of there. That he eventually did is not as uplifting when Lorne thinks about the horrors Kylar endured in the time prior to his escape. While Lorne was living in the land of the free, performing classics for his adoring fans, buying outrageously colourful suits and gulping down cocktails like they were going out of fashion, he was blissfully unaware of the shocking ordeals Kylar was going through, and had already been through, all in the hopes of getting to this place and seeing him again. Lorne's ignorance in the face of such suffering makes him feel like a selfish asshole however he honestly didn't believe there was one person on Pylea who was worth thinking about, even for two seconds.

But he was wrong. There is one person worth it and he's on Lorne's floor right now, curled up protectively in a ball like he's trying to keep the cold out, a habit born from living in a cave for so long. Now knowing exactly what terrible things this sweet boy experienced, Lorne is determined to do his best to make up for it. And one of those things includes teaching him how to sleep in a proper bed.

He strokes Kylar's cheek again, trying to subtly wake him, and the teenager stirs, his lashes beginning to flutter. Suddenly, he reacts violently, whacking Lorne's hand away while simultaneously twisting aside, springing into a crouching defence position far quicker than someone who's just been asleep ought to be able to.

"Hey, it's okay, Kylar! It's just me," Lorne quickly assures him, holding his hands up. "It's Lorne. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Crouched like a tightly wound spring, Kylar stares at him in disoriented confusion and then quickly looks around himself, his eyes huge and alarmed, as if he doesn't know where he is or what's going on. Then gradual realisation fills his face and he slumps to his knees, lowering his head so that his long hair curtains his expression of embarrassment, tiny horns peeping abashedly through the waves of mulberry.

"I apologise," he says awkwardly to Lorne. "I thought you were a giant centipede. They would sometimes crawl on me while I slept. Their bite burns for days."

"No, I'm the one who should be apologising," Lorne returns guiltily, an anxious crinkle between his smooth brows. "I shouldn't have startled you, sweetie. I'm sorry."

"Do not fret about it. I startled you when I crept into your chamber without knocking so I suppose we are even now," the young demon concedes, looking up with a faint smile, proving that unlike most Pyleans he actually knows what a sense of humour is.

"I guess we are," Lorne relents with a wry grin. "Anyway, the reason I woke you was to ask why you're down here and not on the bed where you should be."

"I am used to sleeping on firm surfaces." Sparing a glance at the queen-sized mattress, Kylar admits, "It feels strange. Like I am sinking."

"That's kind of the point. It's meant to be soft and snuggly. Give it a few nights. You'll soon realise how much better it is to sleep on than the ground."

"But it is so big." Kylar drops his eyes in shyness. "And you are so far away."

Again touched that Kylar wishes to be near him, Lorne offers, "You want me to come and sleep up there with you? Will that help?"

"It will," Kylar replies in a timid tone, no more than a whisper.

Lorne climbs off the couch and gives Kylar a hand up from the floor, leading the boy back over to his bed. The older green-skinned male has not shared his bed with anybody in…well…ever, so this is a first for him. When he's spent the night with someone, be it a woman or man or hermaphrodite – human, demon or otherwise - he hasn't ever trusted them enough to bring them back to his own room. He usually takes them to another hotel that's not The Hyperion because he prefers the gang not knowing about it every time he gets laid. Not that this is in any way a sexual situation but it's still somewhat intimate and personal, climbing beneath the sheets with another person, even if they are fully clothed. He settles on the left of the mattress while Kylar curls up on the right, neither of them touching. Utilising his fatherly instincts, Lorne pulls the covers up to Kylar's narrow shoulders, the younger boy pulling them up even further, over his ears, like he's trying to keep them from being frost-bitten. It will probably take him a while to realise that they have central heating in the hotel and such measures are not necessary but Lorne secretly thinks it's adorably cute how Kylar's all rugged up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, only his eyes and horns showing. Lorne would like to gather this shy little caterpillar into his arms and hold him close but he isn't sure if that's what Kylar needs. Kylar turned to him earlier and let himself be embraced but that was when he was crying. He's not crying now and the last thing Lorne wants to do is frighten the child or make him uncomfortable by being too touchy-feely when it isn't wanted or required.

After all, Kylar has spent so many years alone, relying on nobody but himself – sleeping by himself - and overt physical contact would probably seem invasive and threatening to him, especially since he's been abused and beaten in the past by a man who claimed full ownership of him. Even if it doesn't scare Kylar to be touched by another person, Lorne senses that the other boy isn't interested in that; he just wants company and safety in this strange plane of existence that is light-years away from what he's used to on their home world. Since Lorne is the older one out of the two of them, it's his job to provide that sense of security and protection, something he can do simply by being here.

"Are you warm enough, snow-pea?"

"Yes. I am warm," comes the calm response from under the covers.

"If you get cold just tell me and I'll turn the heating up, all right?"

"All right."

"If you need anything during the night, anything at all, please let me know. Don't be afraid to ask, okay?" Lorne assures him. "I'm here to help."

"You are extremely hospitable," Kylar comments, never having been the object of such concern before.

"Yeah, well. That's why I'm called the Host." Lorne shrugs sheepishly. "It's kinda my job."

"You are very good at your job."

"Oh, you're not just a duty to me, Kylar. I /want/ to take care of you." Realising how that sounds, he speedily adds, "Not that I think you NEED taking care of. Hell, no. You can quite clearly take care of yourself. You came out of Pylea alive and with your head intact, for starters. What I meant was, you're new to this world and you don't know anybody so you might want someone who's familiar with this place to guide you and keep an eye out for you; teach you about the potential dangers you need to be careful of and generally make sure you have everything you need to survive here and live comfortably. You know what I mean?"

Lorne is aware that he's babbling but Kylar doesn't seem to mind. In a surprised voice, the teenager slowly replies, "You wish to be my guardian."

Making a face of anxiousness which he's thankful Kylar can't see in the dark, Lorne questions hesitantly, "Is…is that okay with you? If not, just say the word and I'll step back."

When he feels a small hand slipping into his own Lorne is the one who's filled with surprise. Kylar's fingers are thin and delicate but they wrap around Lorne's with sure firmness.

"I would like you to be my guardian, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan," the eighteen year old says softly. "I would like that very much."

Hearing that makes Lorne's chest glow so warmly it's a wonder it can't be seen shining through his pyjama top.

"I won't let you down, darlin'. Not for one second," he avows, squeezing Kylar's hand, feeling a fierce defensiveness he's never felt for anyone before. "Nobody will ever hurt you again, I swear. I'd die before I let that happen to you."

In that same soft, certain tone, Kylar answers, "I know."

Realising that he's now solely responsible for Kylar's well-being, Lorne wants to hug him more than ever, to cement his promise by enfolding the teenager in his protective embrace but refrains from doing so, fearful of further scaring this already-damaged young man.

"You may hold me if you wish." Kylar's words are whispered yet they are strengthened with inner courage. "I am not afraid of you, Lorne."

"How did you know I…?" Lorne starts to ask in astonishment, but then stops with a shake of his head. "Right. I keep forgetting I'm not the only Empath around here anymore. C'mere, you little mind-reader."

He gently pulls Kylar closer and wraps both arms around the youth's fragile figure, smiling in the darkness at Kylar's innocent perceptiveness. He's going to have to keep his thoughts shielded from now on in case Kylar reads something Lorne doesn't want him to read because, let's face it, what goes on inside Lorne's devious horned head is not always PG rated. It is now, though. Now, he's only thinking about how he's suddenly gained a surrogate son and how unexpectedly happy that makes him.

His voice lowering to a murmur, he says, "Good night, Kylar. Sleep well."

Kylar snuggles sleepily into his chest, the scent of his hair as sweet as wildflowers.

"Sleep well, Lorne."

………………

The next morning Kylar awakens, finding Lorne still sleeping deeply, the younger one resting his chin on his own hand and watching his handsome idol for a while. Lorne is lying on his stomach but his arm is draped over Kylar's middle and Kylar leaves it there, liking the warm weight. Upon Lorne's lips there is a small smile and with a smile of his own Kylar wonders if the older male is dreaming and what it's about. He wonders with slightly flushing cheeks if it's about him. He could probably use his empath abilities to sneak into Lorne's head and find out but he will never do that without being asked. It's like spying, an invasion of privacy. Whatever Lorne's dream is about, it appears to be a good one and that's all Kylar needs to know. The eighteen year old watches and waits to see if Lorne will wake but it doesn't seem to be happening any time soon and Kylar doesn't want to rouse him out of his rest if he needs it so much. The boy is used to rising early but apparently Lorne isn't so Kylar decides to let his new guardian get some more sleep and slips out from under Lorne's arm, noiselessly leaving the room. Finding another vacant bathroom down the hall, Kylar uses it to wash his face, tidy his hair and empty his bladder, too shy to pee in Lorne's toilet in case Lorne hears him. He is still amazed at how clean everything is here, the white ceramic commode with its water-flushing function a far cry from the stinking, open waste pits back on Pylea. When he pads downstairs he locates the gang in the kitchen getting ready for breakfast. Kylar stands at the doorway politely until Fred notices him and invites him to the table. He thanks her quietly and takes his place between Fred and Cordelia, who scoots her chair over to make room for him. Head of the stove, Angel cooks delicious scrambled eggs for everyone, though he doesn't partake of them, the vampire sticking to coffee instead.

Kylar doesn't say a whole lot as he's eating but listens to the others chattering and teasing each other as they reach and jostle for toast, bacon and orange juice. Still trying to decipher the colourful and peculiar American language, he doesn't understand half of what the humans are talking about but their voices are affectionate and sociable and he can plainly sense the close bond between them all, a bond that has resulted from shared experiences and losses and triumphs. One day he hopes to be able to talk with them like this, to exchange jokes and banter in such a joyful manner. Kylar can't even recall the last time he laughed and doesn't even know if he still can but it comes so easily to these people and he finds the sound of their chuckles and giggles to be like music, warming his soul and lifting his spirit.

After breakfast, the girls wash the dishes and Kylar helps to dry up, and even though Fred and Cordy try to shoo him out of the kitchen the boy courteously but firmly insists he will do his part in this household, stating that he is well used to doing chores, no matter how menial. Cordy and Fred give secret, small smiles to each other after hearing this, thinking that the Pylean will make a great boyfriend for somebody one day.

When the table has been cleared and all the plates put away, Kylar wanders over to a big cabinet that Wesley has opened, marvelling at the enormous range of fancy and dangerous weaponry stored inside, but not daring to touch any of them.

Eyeing off a massive sharp silver sword with a decorative hilt, he murmurs in fascination, "So big and long."

Overhearing this Gunn cheekily remarks, "Yeah, that's what SHE said," and smirks, holding his hand up for Wes to high-five for his witty hilarity, but the Englishman just arches an unimpressed brow at him, not sharing Gunn's frat-house sense of humour. Thankfully, Kylar misses the innuendo completely, being the naïve little thing he is, and he watches as Wesley and Gunn select some weapons to train with; the Brit choosing the enormous sword Kylar was just admiring and the black guy some type of medieval war-axe, Gunn twirling it around and testing its heaviness. Sensing two presences behind him, the demon boy turns to find Cordelia and Fred standing there with excited grins on their faces.

"Hold your arms out like this and stand still, sweetie," Fred instructs. The slim teenager poses there in bewilderment as the girls stretch a plastic tape printed with numerals down and around of all his limbs, his waist and chest and from the top of his head right down to his feet, recording numbers on a notepad.

Standing there stiffly, Kylar delicately clears his throat. "May I enquire as to what you are doing to me?"

"Taking your measurements," Fred answers, looking concentrated on the task as she scribbles in the pad. "My goodness, your proportions are almost scientifically perfect, did you know that? You're like, one in a gazillion. That's extremely rare."

Kylar just blinks in confusion, remaining as still as a tree.

"Of course, we'll have to go a couple of sizes larger than what you are now, to allow for muscle growth and general filling out…"

"You need a new wardrobe so we're going to buy you one. That means clothes," Cordy informs him. "We'd ask you to tag along but boys generally don't like shopping and besides, you'd kinda stand out. You know, in amongst all the pink-skinned humans."

"You can put your arms down now," Fred says, gently pushing at his wrist. "We're done."

Lowering his arms back to his sides, Kylar glances bemusedly between the two females as they chatter about styles, designs, brands, labels and colours, not understanding a word of it, only knowing that he won't have to ask that strange Connor child for any more clothing because soon he will have his own.

"I do not have any way to pay for this new 'wardrobe', as you call it," he interrupts anxiously. "I did not receive earnings back on the farm. I am afraid I am as poor as the dirt."

"Don't worry about it, Ky. As your guardian it's Lorne's job to pay for your personal expenses but we're chipping in too. Consider it our 'Welcome to This Dimension' gift," Cordy breezes. "Besides, we just like to shop."

"Trust me, they love this stuff," Angel seconds, dropping his black-clad form onto the circular lounge in the lobby, a cup of warm pig-blood in his hands. "Just let them do what girls do."

Angel is a champion so he must know what he's talking about, Kylar decides, glancing at the noble vampire and then back at the young ladies, nodding his consent for the clothes-buying. Before Fred and Cordy leave to make their purchases, Kylar hesitantly pipes up, "Excuse me Cordelia, may I please speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course." Cordy gazes at him with interest. "What's up?"

"In private, if you do not mind," Kylar whispers, timidly sparing glances at the other men in the room.

Cordelia takes his thin arm and steers him over to a corner so they can converse without being eavesdropped on.

"I wish to thank you for last night," Kylar begins with gratitude. "What you did…it has helped me very much. I am no longer haunted by the memories of my past. I feel lighter. Like I can breathe again."

"I can see that. And you're very welcome." Cordy's pleased expression saddens somewhat. "Kylar, when I was taking your pain…I saw everything you've been through. I didn't just see it either – I felt it. The things they did to you…nobody deserves that. I just want to say that I'm so sorry."

The young demon nods and lowers his eyes, accepting her sympathy with his usual modest grace. "Do not be too sorry for me," he replies humbly. "I will be all right."

He glances back up. "Because of you I am already starting to heal."

"Well, if you think you need any more healing, let me know, okay?"

"I will. Thank you once again," he says solemnly, gazing at the attractive dark-haired woman with reverent respect. "I know you said otherwise, but you will always be the Princess of Pylea to me."

Cordelia stares at him, like she's not sure whether to smile or cry.

"Aw, Kylar. Could you be any sweeter?" Her heart swelling with affection, she pulls him in for an impulsive hug. In a secretive whisper she grants, "You can still call me that if you want. Just don't tell the others."

When she pulls back to look at him, he's smiling shyly and it makes him look even more beautiful. Knowing that he really will be fine, Cordy gives him a cheery, confidential grin and then catches up to Fred, eager to hit the stores and give the credit card a work out. Even though it's not for herself she'll just be happy to be shopping and spending money.

Lorne finally emerges from his bedroom, dressed in a yellow shirt and light tan pants, looking casual yet chic, his blond-tipped hair meticulously styled as usual. He greets everybody gaily, winks at Kylar – making the younger Pylean blush and hide behind his lustrous berry-coloured locks – and then grabs a piece of toast and a cup of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"Ugh, who made this undrinkable swill?"

"I did," Angel answers, sounding insulted. "You don't like it, Lorne, get up earlier and make your own. With how late you sleep, anyone would think you're the vampire around here."

"No offence, Angel-cakes, but I really need to teach you how to make good coffee one of these days. Besides, since you don't age I need beauty sleep more than you," Lorne declares, plonking down on the couch next to his boss, observing as the other two males start their daily training routine, something Lorne doesn't do because A) he's lazy and B) there are enough buff tough guys in the hotel already. Lorne is not and will never be one of them. And he's perfectly fine and dandy with that.

Wes and Gunn begin to spar, the sound of clanking metal and male grunts echoing around the lobby. Normally Kylar is not interested in watching warriors duel as all they do is show off and act conceited at their magnificent prowess and strength but Wes and Gunn do not act like that. They're not showing off for anybody. They're serious about what they're doing, not trying to really hurt each other but practising and perfecting their skills. Sitting down to watch, he curls up on the floor near Lorne's legs, leaning back against the couch and peering shyly up at Angel beside him.

"Is it all right if I sit here?" Kylar nervously asks the handsome Van-tal, not wanting to disrespect the owner of the hotel who has so kindly and graciously allowed him to stay. "You do not think it impolite?"

"He prefers firm surfaces," Lorne explains. "Creature of the wild, you know."

"Sit anywhere you like. In any way you like," Angel declares casually, stretching out his legs and tucking one hand behind his own head. "We aren't big on rules and formalities around here. Just make yourself at home like everybody else."

Smiling bashfully, Kylar softly replies, "Thank you, Angel," his ruby-red gaze lingering a little too long and a little too admiringly on Angel's classically chiselled face, or so Lorne thinks anyway, the older demon experiencing a pang of envy, wishing Kylar wouldn't look at his blood-drinking boss like that. Just because Angel killed a stupid Drokken – which are famous for being notoriously hard to destroy – it doesn't mean everyone should fawn over him like some kind of pale, nocturnal God. Besides, Lorne has killed things too. Bugs, mainly, and the occasional hell-spawn but still, the whole Angel the Great Drokken Slayer thing is totally overrated in his opinion.

Unaware of Lorne's slight jealousy, Kylar turns back to Gunn and Wes, absorbed by their duelling, sword against axe. The way they move, ducking and twisting and spinning – it's almost like a dance and he finds it enthralling and not at all boastful, which is why he can watch it and not leave in silent disgust. Noticing Kylar's sustained interest, Wes comes up to the boy when he and Gunn take a break.

Wiping his sweaty brow with his shirt-sleeve, the Englishman inquires, "Do you know how to use a sword?"

The teenager shakes his head, ripples of purple-brown swaying silkily about his face and down his back. "I do not."

"Would you like to?"

Glancing at Wesley's muscled arms, Kylar admits, "I am not a warrior."

"Neither was I, once," Wes reveals. "But I am now. And with the right training you can be too."

"He doesn't like violence, Wes. Or killing," Lorne reminds from his spot on the couch. "Part of the reason why he left Pylea."

"It's not like Pylea here, Kylar." Wes looks intently at the red-eyed youth. "All of us at Angel Investigations, we don't kill for sport or fun. We do it to save people's lives or to protect our own. I'm sorry to say it but if you're going to live here amongst us, you need to know how to defend yourself. Or you won't last a month."

"I see his point, dragonfly," the older Empath relents with a regretful face. "LA is full of nasty creatures, like lawyers, and we tend to get attacked on a regular basis. I'm no warrior either, believe me, and my best weapon is my voice but in a fight, I can come out the other side not dead."

Wesley finishes with, "Even if you just learn the basics of self-defence, it'll make a world of difference when you go out on those streets."

Wanting to live in this world much longer than a mere month, Kylar gives the other man a decisive nod and stands up. "If you will teach me, I am willing to learn."

Wes smiles in a chipper manner, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. "Excellent. Right this way."

He puts his hand on Kylar's shoulder, bringing him over to the opened cabinet Kylar was peeking in earlier.

"Choose your weapon."

In awe of all the choices, Kylar breathes, "Any of them?"

"Any you like."

Since Wesley is holding a sword, Kylar decides to select one too; a slightly smaller but no less dangerous-looking version with a shiny steel blade that has scrolled patterns all over it and a brown leather-bound hilt. Kylar knows he's not very strong and this one looks like the lightest of all the options available, whilst still matching Wes's weapon-style.

"Don't touch the edge. It's razor-sharp," Wesley warns him and Kylar gulps, sure he's going to cut himself sooner or later. Being careful not to make contact with the business side of the blade, he wraps his long, slim fingers around the handle and takes it off the hook. Kylar gives a soft exclamation, surprised by how much weight it has. Or perhaps it just seems that way to him because his arms are so thin, due to being practically starved back in the forest on his home world. When he was working on the farm he was fed every day and despite the beatings he was a lot fitter than he is at present. Now, he just feels weak and wasted away. He turns the sword upside down and lets the tip of it rest on the floor, finding that the bottom of the handle comes up to his chin. The weapon is almost as tall as he is! Probably just as heavy too, at least until he gains some weight. How is he ever going to wield this burdensome object, let alone defend himself with it? But he told Wesley he would learn, so learn he will, and when Wes starts to describe some very simple moves Kylar listens, uses what little muscle he has to pick up the sword and determinedly begins to train.

Connor gets over his mortification at having believed Kylar to be female and comes down from his room to watch, curious about the newest member of the household. He observes the Pylean training with Wes, impressed with Kylar's fluid, elegant movements, even if his sword-handling ability is nowhere near the level of the bigger Englishman's. The demon lacks upper body strength and seems unsure of the sharp, heavy weapon in his hands but as he sidesteps and ducks, he's light and agile and this quickness will serve him well in battle. Connor can tell Kylar has potential by the instinctive way he seems to anticipate the attack, from which direction it will come, sometimes before Wes has even raised his sword. Connor guesses this uncanny talent was what kept him alive in the wild woods of Pylea; knowing when he was being hunted and being able to avoid getting caught. It's a form of sixth sense. Kylar probably doesn't even realise he's doing it.

When the long-haired teen stops for a rest and to have a drink of water, Connor approaches him, making sure he looks friendly and not like the ferocious demon-hunter he normally is.

"Hi."

In a shy tone, Kylar replies, "Hello."

"Sorry about last night," Connor apologises with a shrug of embarrassment, thinking it best to explain his bizarre behaviour now so they can both get past it. "Thought you were a girl."

Kylar smiles, the olive-skinned boy not taking offence. "That seems to happen a lot on this dimension."

Gazing interestedly at the other teenager, Connor asks, "Do you like LA?"

"It is…unusual. Many bright colours, strange scents and lots of noise. But I am enjoying my experiences here very much, thank you."

"Better than Pylea, huh?"

"Yes." Kylar lifts the plastic cup to his lips, taking a sip, one baggy sleeve falling down his skinny arm.

"How did you get those?" The brunette boy motions to the white scars revealed on Kylar's slender wrist.

"Chains," Kylar returns quietly, dropping his eyes. "I was a prisoner there. A slave."

"That sucks," Connor mutters. "I grew up in a hell dimension, too. Qor'toth. I wasn't a prisoner but I felt trapped there. I couldn't leave. It was dark. Scary. Things kept trying to kill me."

Shrugging, he concludes, "I eventually found a way out. Came here. Started over."

Kylar starts to view Angel's son in a different light; his story very familiar to Kylar's own. The other boy's sentences are short and to the point, not expressing a lot of emotion but Kylar can read between them, at the pain behind the words. Connor was also an outsider, once upon a time. He has suffered and known the cold loneliness of the night but to look at him and how assuredly comfortable he is now, it's as though he's always lived here, always been part of this world, part of this close-knit and supportive group, more like a family, something which Kylar has so desperately longed for and dreamed about. To fit in. To belong. To be accepted.

"I know what it's like to be new here. How weird everything is," Connor says sympathetically. "You feel like a freak for a while. But then you start to get used to it. Then you start to feel free."

"I must admit I am feeling a great deal freer already," Kylar remarks in a soft tone, glancing towards the yellow-shirted figure sitting on the lobby lounge next to Angel.

Connor follows Kylar's line of attention and sees Lorne, who hastily averts his eyes and takes a swig of his drink – now alcohol instead of coffee even though it isn't yet lunchtime - the older demon acting like he wasn't just staring at Kylar which is a futile gesture because ever since he walked downstairs he's been doing precisely that.

"You interested in sensory training?"

Connor's query brings Kylar's attention back to the half-human boy with the piercing blue gaze. "What is that?"

"Where you rely on senses other than sight," Connor embellishes. "Most of the time it will be dark and you won't be able to see your attacker. You need to be able to smell them, to hear their breathing, or if they don't breathe – like vampires - you need to sense their presence, where they are in the darkness, when they are coming for you."

"Is that what you do?"

Connor nods affirmatively. "You're empathic. You should be good at it too. In fact, you're already doing it."

Kylar appears surprised. "I am?"

"Yeah. I saw you just then. With Wes. You just need to focus it more."

"Okay," Kylar agrees readily. "Show me how to do that."

Connor gets a blindfold and after making sure Kylar is okay with wearing it, he puts it on the young demon, tying it at the back of his head and covering his crimson eyes so Kylar's focus shifts to what he can hear and smell and sense, rather than see.

"Be gentle with him, Connor," Angel warns before they begin. "He's not like you."

"I know, Dad," Connor tosses back impatiently. "Don't worry. I won't break him."

"You better not," Lorne growls, fully in protective guardian mode and glaring at Connor ominously. "Or I'll break YOU."

Rolling his eyes at the lame threat, Connor ignores the other demon and turns to the younger blindfolded one. Standing in front of the temporarily handicapped Pylean, Connor starts moving from side to side, breathing a little louder than he normally does, just to give Kylar a chance of sensing him when normally he prides himself on being undetectable. When he knows Kylar is tracking him – the long-haired boy's head turning towards his movements - Connor begins to attack, but carefully, darting forward and lightly tapping Kylar on the arm, shoulder and face, Connor instructing him to block each tap. At first Kylar reacts long after Connor has made contact, swinging out into empty air, but gradually the thin teenager learns to predict each attack, anticipating from which side Connor will strike at him and blocking the blow with one raised arm or dodging aside to avoid being touched. He doesn't block or prevent every one but he's improving by the minute. As Kylar gets better at it, Connor hits harder, the taps turning into slaps and then into light punches which grow in force, Kylar's defences strengthening accordingly too. By hitting harder, Connor wants to fire the passive boy up into being aggressive and punching back, the vampire slayer offering curt words of encouragement when Kylar does just that, commencing to lash out at Connor and occasionally actually connecting with the other teen.

"Yeah. Good. Hit me back," Connor directs, jabbing his fist forward and having Kylar stop it with one arm while striking out with the other, the Pylean managing to punch Connor in the ribs. Of course, to Connor it only feels like being hit with a stray tennis ball and not at all painful but he admires the kid's guts and daring, taking on someone who could snap his scrawny limbs like sticks of kindling. Not that Connor would do that. Kylar might be a boy but he's still the prettiest thing Connor's seen in a long time and he doesn't want to disfigure that pale green beauty so as they fight, he's extra-cautious to hold his own supernatural power in check. With Angel, Lorne, Wes and Gunn watching, the two young men of different species trade blows, Kylar gaining more and more confidence as his predictive abilities increase, taking Connor's punches and returning them as hard as he can, both of them breathing fast and starting to sweat, Kylar's purplish-red tresses turning damp and clinging to his face and neck in dark wavy strings. Launching forward again, Connor lands a hard hit on Kylar's stomach, unintentionally winding him and knocking the frailer adolescent down. As Kylar thuds back-first to the floor Lorne gasps out loud, just about dropping his cocktail.

"Ouch," Gunn winces.

"Connor!" Angel calls out scoldingly. "I told you to be gentle!"

"Sorry," Connor apologizes to Kylar, hoping he wasn't too rough on the kid. "You okay?"

Kylar is lying there on his back, panting and holding his sunken belly, long hair spilling around his head like a halo on the floor as he catches his breath. With one hand he lifts the blindfold up to his horns, scarlet eyes burning up at Connor.

"I have taken much worse beatings than that, spawn of a Van-tal."

Now it's Angel who gasps, leaping up in defence. "WHAT did he just call my son?"

"Unbunch your panties, Angel-hair. A Van-tal is a drinker of blood so essentially he's saying son of…well," here Lorne indicates to Angel. "You."

"Oh," Angel utters, sitting back down and thinking to himself that Lorne's race has an odd way of addressing other people. He watches in trepidation as Connor extends his hand to the red-eyed teenager on the ground, Angel not sure how the proud Pylean will react to the offer, whether he might see it as patronising or offensive, but Kylar surprisingly accepts the assistance, gripping Connor's wrist as the other boy pulls him up from the floor, helping him to stand.

"Another bout," Kylar demands challengingly as he pushes back his hair and straightens his spine, not ready to quit yet.

Connor grins, starting to like his new sparring partner. "Let's do it, demon," he rebounds, not saying the word as an insult, like he once did to Lorne, but in the same friendly manner as 'bro' or 'dude'.

Kylar grins back, snapping the blindfold down again. He never realised that sparring could be such fun!

"Aw, look at that. Your boy and my boy…getting along like a house on fire." Lorne shakes his head in amazement. "Never thought I'd see the day when Junior makes friends with a green-skin."

"Never thought I'd see the day when Connor makes a friend, period," Gunn comments, coming up and joining the conversation. "He doesn't normally play well with others, does he?"

"Not usually," Angel has to agree, also astounded by how quickly his son and the eighteen year old Pylean are bonding. Loner-boy Connor spending time with anyone and not wanting to dismember them…Very uncommon occurrence indeed.

Kylar would have liked to train to all day with Angel's son, honing this skill he didn't even know he possessed, but after an hour of practising he's drained both physically and mentally, even though Connor has been taking it easy on him. Not used to concentrating so hard or for such a lengthy period of time, Kylar develops a headache, beginning to stumble and lose his co-ordination. Noticing this, Lorne instantly comes up and announces that it's enough for now, removing the blindfold and leading an exhausted Kylar back upstairs.

While Lorne hovers outside, Kylar has a quick rinse in Lorne's shower to wash the sweat off and refresh himself but after he's dressed and is walking back into the bedroom, he is overcome by a spell of dizziness and faints dead away, collapsing like a tower of cards. Luckily, Lorne is there to catch him and help him up onto the bed. When he comes back around Kylar sits up, insisting he is fine but Lorne knows better, able to feel the teenager's lingering headache and giddiness for himself.

Rather concerned about the other boy, Lorne gives him a couple of pain-killers and a wet washcloth and then calls in a demon doctor, one who specialises in non-human patients, getting him to check Kylar over. Being a demon himself, the doctor puts Kylar at ease and the young Pylean lets himself be examined from head to toe, getting a bright light shone in his eyes, his throat peered down, his limbs felt and manipulated, his joints and muscles tested to see how well they function. The doctor asks Kylar whether he smokes, takes drugs or drinks alcohol as well as other general questions about his health, eating habits and sleeping patterns, nodding sagely when the eighteen year old explains where he's come from and that both food and sleep were very hard to obtain there. Kylar's stomach is prodded, not that there's much to poke at there, and then the doctor proceeds to investigate his lungs, placing a stethoscope on his chest and telling him to breathe deeply. The doctor checks the left lung first and then the right, walking around behind Kylar to listen from the other side. When Kylar's lengthy hair is pushed aside and his shirt lifted at the back Lorne has to hold in a hiss of shock.

There are rows of pale, slightly raised scars criss-crossing the teenager's skin, elongated and thin, clearly made with a whip or a switch of willow.

There is not one square patch of skin under that shirt that's untouched or unmarred, the many marks overlapping, built up over the weeks and months, formed from countless separate whippings. Staring at the mess that is Kylar's back, Lorne's gut twists nauseatingly. When they were in the bathroom last night Kylar never turned around and his hair was hanging down to his waist like a veil so Lorne did not see these scars before and had no idea they were even here. He heard the boy's terrible story, heard how he had gotten beaten by his master, even felt it for himself when he was inside Kylar's head but seeing the actual damage done to this child's body, seeing what was permanently left behind from such vicious brutality is thoroughly sickening.

"I need a cigarette. Be right back," Lorne blurts as he makes a hurried exit, getting out of there before he pukes all over the carpet. Once in the hotel hallway, he practically runs to the stairs, taking them three at a time, reaching the ground floor and cutting across the empty lobby, finally bursting through the doors outside into the garden courtyard. Leaning over in the bright midday sunshine with his hands braced on his knees, he drags in uneven breaths, shutting his eyes and concentrating on the spring-fresh scent of flowers and plants until he has his roiling stomach under control.

Eventually straightening, he swallows and fumbles in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, lighting one and drawing on it long and hard, exhaling a cloud of grey smoke into the air with a heavy sigh. "Shit," he curses softly, rubbing his face with a shaking hand.

"You all right?" Angel is standing in the open doorway, looking at him in concern.

"Not really." Lorne glances away, the cherry end of his cigarette glowing orange for a few seconds and takes another puff.

Angel is tactfully silent, waiting for the other demon to say more.

In a sudden vent of anger, Lorne spits, "I fucking HATE Pylea!"

"Yeah, it does kind of suck," Angel mumbles ineffectually. He steps into the courtyard closer to Lorne, being careful to keep in the shadows of the trees and out of the sun. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"I just saw what Kylar's former 'master' did to him." The green-skinned demon's voice is hollow. "He's got whip-scars from the back of his neck all the way down to his tailbone. Hundreds of them."

Angel's brown eyes widen in shock. "Jesus."

Turning to the vampire, Lorne chokes out, "Oh, Angel. What that poor creature has been through…It breaks my heart."

"He'll be all right. He's not there anymore." Angel clasps Lorne's shoulder comfortingly. "Plus he's got you taking care of him now."

"I've never done this before. I've never had to look after anyone but myself," Lorne admits, his brow creased in fretful anxiety. "What if I screw him up even more?"

"Won't happen." Angel's tone is firm with belief, knowing how much of a fatherly figure Lorne is to everyone else in the hotel. "Anyway, I don't think he'll need that much looking after. He's a tough kid. He survived this long on his own, didn't he?"

"That's true," Lorne concedes in admiration. "And he learnt how to work a portal, recalling all the words from memory alone which is not a simple feat considering there are no vowels in them whatsoever."

"See, he's smart too. Also astonishingly polite and well-behaved for a teenage boy," Angel remarks musingly. "You won't have the kind of problems with him as I've had with Connor."

"God, I hope not," Lorne wryly retorts, trying to imagine Kylar attacking him in a fit of rage and just not seeing it.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. And so will he." Smiling assuredly, Angel gives his friend one more boost before leaving him alone. "It's good that you've finally found someone, Lorne."

Through a mouthful of smoke Lorne mutters to himself, "Hey, he found ME. I did exactly jack."

Grinding out his cigarette butt with the sole of a shoe, he sighs, heading inside the hotel and back up the stairs.

When Lorne returns, Kylar is sitting on the bed, his shirt thankfully pulled back down. Lorne doesn't think he could regain his composure twice in a row. The doctor packs the last of his instruments into his black bag and clips it shut.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asks Lorne.

"Sure." Trying to hide his apprehension, Lorne glances at the subject of conversation. "Won't be long, Kylar."

The eighteen year old nods courteously as Lorne and the doctor step outside into the hall and close the door.

"So, how is he?" Lorne prompts, desperate to know if Kylar's all right.

"Well, his iron levels are dangerously low, and he's lacking vital minerals, such as calcium and magnesium," the doctor tells him. "It's little wonder he's fainting. Your son is weakened and extremely emaciated. He needs to gain weight immediately."

"I'm working on that, believe me. And he's not my son. I'm just his guardian." Lorne looks at the doctor in worry. "Apart from the skinny situation, is he okay?"

"Mentally, yes. I didn't find anything of concern there. He's intelligent and has a healthy emotional state. But physically, there are a lot of scars."

Lorne grimaces. "Saw those. I don't suppose he told you that he used to be a slave?"

"I guessed as much." The doctor's voice is grave. "The scar tissue around his wrist is consistent with handcuffs and there's a lot of past trauma; fractured ribs, fingers and both arms. His nose has been repeatedly broken. One of his pupils is permanently larger than the other, caused by a hard blow to the eye socket area. His sight wasn't affected, fortunately."

That sick feeling starts to come back and Lorne closes his eyes for a moment, realising just how horribly and frequently Kylar must have been bashed. "Anything else I need to know?"

"It's not all bad news," the doctor offers optimistically. "His injuries have healed well. He has no infections or diseases. He's had a back tooth knocked out but the rest of them are in excellent condition. And he's young. There's no reason why he can't fully recuperate. He just needs rest and lots of fruits, vegetables and dairy foods. Some muscle-building training exercises when he's up to it."

"Got all that covered. In fact, he wanted to start training straight away." Lorne makes a remorseful expression. "Of course, the sword he picked was heavier than he was and we wore the poor boy out completely – which is why you're here - but it's a positive sign, right? If he wants to do it?"

"I'd say very positive. If he's got the motivation to recover, then he will. You just make sure he eats and give him these twice a day." Lorne gets handed a bottle of pills. "I've given him a vitamin shot already but he's going to require a lot more to get back on track. I'm certain he'll do fine, however, don't hesitate to call me if you feel he's not making progress."

"I will. Thank you so much," Lorne replies gratefully. The demon doctor bids him good day and Lorne takes a second to say a silent prayer, inexpressibly glad that Kylar isn't in worse shape after all he's suffered through. Opening the door to his room, Lorne smiles as his new ward glances up inquiringly, wanting to know what he and the doctor were talking about.

"Don't worry, parsnip. He says you're gonna be A-Ok. I just need to feed you, that's all."

Kylar peers at the bottle containing yellow pills that Lorne is holding. "What are those?"

"Multi-vitamins. Medicine. It will help you get strong again." He indicates to Kylar's arm, his sleeve still rolled up, a red dot welling from the puncture site on his light green skin. "Needle didn't hurt too much?"

"No. It was nothing."

"It's still bleeding. Let me get something for that."

Lorne goes to his medical kit in the bathroom – a necessity in these dangerous and violent times - and returns with a tiny piece of sticking plaster, carefully placing it over the spot of blood on Kylar's bicep. Sitting next to Kylar on the bed, Lorne runs his gaze down Kylar's slim arm, taking his small hand and inspecting it. The boy's red nails are dark at the base, almost Gothic-black, and prettily oval-shaped. His fingers seem perfectly straight with no obvious kinks or bumps. You can't even tell they were broken. Again greatly distressed by how much Kylar has suffered, Lorne unthinkingly lifts the teenager's hand up to his lips, gently kissing those fine, slender fingers and nuzzling his cheek against them. Kylar looks at him with big surprised eyes.

Realising what he's doing, Lorne hurriedly lets the kid's hand go. "Sorry," he says abashedly. "I'm a little over-affectionate, I know. I keep forgetting you're not used to that. Just tell me if you want me to back off, okay?"

"I do not mind," Kylar huskily answers and for a second Lorne could've sworn Kylar was looking at his mouth. Of course, that makes Lorne stare at Kylar's own lips, at how sweetly they curve and how softly shaped and full they are, their rich colouring like ripened plums.

Oh God, to kiss those lips would be absolute heaven…

Quickly coming back to his senses Lorne clears his throat, and his inappropriate thoughts.

"How about we start fattening you up, huh, kiddo? Ever heard of pasta?"

………………

To be continued!


	4. Makeover

Part 4.

Later in the afternoon, Connor vanishes to go hunt some vampires, armed with stakes, knives and an axe. The girls come back from their shopping expedition with a huge pile of boxes and bags full of clothing for Kylar, as well as shoes, socks and underwear, Cordy and Fred laying each ensemble onto Cordelia's bed and explaining what goes with what and how to wear each item and to which sort of occasion each piece can be worn. There are soft, comfy clothes he can train in, like sweatpants and tank tops, and casual outfits suitable for day wear as well as a few fancier ones, like tailored pants and collared shirts for evening functions. They've even bought Kylar a slick black suit and a couple of coloured ties, just in case he ever goes to the opera, ballet or a musical theatre performance which is highly likely since Lorne loves that stuff and won't be able to resist initiating Kylar into the dazzling world of show business. Since Kylar has been practically living in a ratty robe for most of his life, he hasn't had a chance to develop his own style yet so most of the clothes the girls chose for him consist of modern teenage gear similar to what Connor wears – jeans, sneakers, long-sleeved t-shirts, hoodies, a couple of jackets (one denim and one belted black woollen to keep out the bitter Los Angeles winter cold) plus an assortment of trendy guys' accessories like printed canvas and metal studded belts, key-chains, pendant necklaces, trucker caps and knitted hats which will be handy for disguising his horns when he goes out in public. He now has sunglasses to conceal his red eyes too and gloves, to hide his green hands.

Understanding very well what it's like to have flaws, the girls even got him a few thick wrist-cuffs in black, white and brown, in case he feels self-conscious about his captivity-scars and wants to cover them. Knowing about the boy's affinity with living creatures, Cordy and Fred are careful not to buy anything in leather or made from animal skins, substituting vinyl instead. A lot of the pieces are classified as Goth or Emo but being an Empath and having such deep feelings and sensitivity means Kylar is pretty much an Emo-boy anyway. His facial markings and colourings appear like heavy make-up so the look will suit him and highlight his striking features. Trying not to let fashionista Cordelia dominate their purchases, Fred managed to slip in some hippie-themed articles, like woven organic-cotton pyjamas, hemp cargo pants and t-shirts tie-dyed with vegetable pigment, as well as bracelets and necklets with shells and stones on them, arguing that the nature-loving boy might not always want to dress like a punk. Cordelia reluctantly agreed and allowed Fred to pick a few pieces too but she drew the line at checked flannel shirts or cowboy boots like the tiny Texan girl started to suggest. Kylar should look like a city teenager, not a farm boy. His farming days are over for good now.

What's lying on Cordy's bed is a base of mix and match pieces that Kylar can add to himself later on and is a good starting point to figure out what his own style is, and what he decides will suit his personality best. The main goal Cordelia and Fred wanted to achieve with selecting this particular wardrobe was to make Kylar fit into this world but at the same time make it very clear that he is a boy in spite of his natural feminine beauty. When people see him dressed in these clothes, and see the lean, hard shape of his body, he won't be mistaken for a girl anymore.

As Cordy is currently explaining to the young demon, he may not enjoy wearing these strange items at first but he has to try them and wear them at least a few times to gauge if he truly feels comfortable. If he doesn't like anything, he can always give it away to charity. Or give it to Connor.

Kylar listens to Cordy's advice in overwhelmed awe, touching and stroking the luxurious fabrics laid out on the bed and closely admiring the necklaces and bracelets, never having worn jewellery before. He's never been rich enough to own any. Everything is so beautiful, expensive-looking and well-made and he is unable to believe all this extravagance now belongs to him. He feels very, very spoiled and he can never thank the two young women enough for what they have done. But he will try.

The next hour is spent with him trying on his many outfits in Cordelia's bathroom and then coming out to bashfully display and model them, much to the girls' delight. There's lots of '_Oooh's _and '_Aww's_. And not just from the females. Lorne's there too. He's sitting on the clothes-laden bed next to Fred, watching the fashion show with a non-stop grin on his face (and a cocktail in his hand), loving the way each and every article of clothing looks on Kylar and constantly complimenting him on them, and also praising Cordy and Fred for their fabulous purchases. They've done a fantastic job of dressing the frail teenager and though the stuff may not have been what Lorne would have chosen, every single thing looks amazing on Kylar. Admittedly, the clothes are hanging off his undernourished frame somewhat but once he gains a bit of weight back he'll look even more amazing and well…let's be truthful here…hot. Frankly, if the boy was any hotter his hair would spontaneously catch on fire.

"You've outdone yourselves, girls," Lorne has to admit. "I couldn't have dressed him better myself. In fact, I'm sure of it. If it had been up to me, he would have ended up looking like my Mini-Clone. But this…"

He gestures to where a blushing Kylar is standing in front of them, clad in black boot-cut jeans, a white chain-belt with matching wrist-cuffs and a black and white printed stretch-top that emphasises his flat chest and slender arms. With his waist-long hair and charcoal/violet eye-shading he could be a member of some alternative music group or a flashy theatrical metal-band. Especially with the twin horns curving out of his forehead.

"He looks like a demonic little rock-star. I love it!" Lorne beams widely and appreciatively at the younger Pylean.

Though he does not know what a 'rock-star' is Kylar senses it's a flattering remark and he flushes even more, his cheeks turning greener, pleased with Lorne's praise of his updated appearance. He bites his soft, wine-coloured bottom lip with perfect white teeth and lowers his dark eyelashes which are long enough to belong to a girl, wearing three coats of mascara. Except he isn't.

Incapable of keeping his opinion to himself in the presence of such gorgeousness, Lorne blurts out, "God, you are so damn cute, Kylar. I could just eat you."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Lorne wishes he could take them back because they sound a lot dirtier than he meant them to. And dammit, now that he's said it, he's unwillingly imagining peeling those brand new clothes off Kylar and pressing his lips to the smooth olive skin underneath which is so very bad and improper and just unforgivably /wrong_/_, especially since he's meant to be Kylar's guardian and father figure and shouldn't be having those kinds of indecent thoughts at ALL. Cordy smirks at Lorne, raising one tweezers-shaped brow like she knows exactly what he's thinking. Also catching the sexual inference, Fred discretely clears her throat, the petite brown-haired girl embarrassedly looking down at her hands. Honestly, Lorne couldn't make his attraction to the pretty eighteen year old youth any more obvious.

"Not that I would! Eat you, I mean. Because we don't do that on this dimension," Lorne hastily babbles, trying to do damage-control in case Kylar has taken his words literally. "Not unless you're Hannibal Lecter and have some Chianti to go with your liver and brain. …But of course you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Realising that he's jammed his four-toed foot into his mouth again, Lorne gives one of those awkward grimace-smiles, wondering how to remove it this time. Kylar is staring at him with a perplexed expression, as though he thinks Lorne is speaking in an utterly different language. The boy doesn't get the whole Silence of the Lambs reference or the oblique oral sex implication either which is a blessing because Lorne really doesn't want to discuss the birds and bees with the kid just yet. It's far too early in his parenting duties to go there and Kylar's too young and innocent to comprehend what blowjobs are anyway. Clearing his disgustingly perverse mind and rubbing that spot on his brow between his horns, Lorne sighs and gulps down the rest of his drink before attempting to speak again.

"What I meant to say, Kylar, was that the clothes Cordy and Fred bought look great on you. That's all."

"I am looking like a boy now?" Kylar hesitantly asks, needing to make sure his gender doesn't get confused any longer.

"Definitely," Lorne mutters, not game to say anything else.

"Absitively posolutely," Fred seconds with a boosting smile, her gaze trailing over Kylar's thin, curveless male body. In these stylish threads he seems taller somehow, or maybe he's just standing straighter and more assuredly and not hunched over in fear and anxiety as he was when Fred first spotted him. The kid glances down on himself, tentatively adjusting his belt and smoothing down the front of his close-fitting shirt, trying to get used to wearing something that wasn't previously filled with tuberous root vegetables. He's as skinny as a sack of bones but if he were human, designers would go crazy for him. This is the exactly the waif-like look they prefer – big eyes, big lips, emaciated figure, long hair. If this was an alternate universe, Kylar could have been preparing for a modelling shoot for a glossy magazine.

"You better watch out, Kylar," Cordy light-heartedly teases him, fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. "Dressed like that I might just try and eat you too."

She turns to wink at Lorne and the flustered demon allows himself to smile back, sensing that Cordelia understands how impossibly attractive Kylar is and does not hold anything Lorne for his improper thoughts towards the boy. Shit, Lorne's not a monk. Never claimed to be. He can try and ignore it all he wants but the fact remains: Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan is simply stunning.

"You know what would make you look even more yummy and delicious?" Cordy enthusiastically leaps up from the bed, fishing out a lock of wavy mulberry from Kylar's wild mane and inspecting the tips of it. "If we trim that poor mistreated hair of yours. Don't get me wrong, it's gorgeous and the colour is divine but seriously, when was the last time you went to a salon? Or even a crude barber shop?"

"Um…never?" Kylar confesses.

"Yeah. I can tell." Cordy walks around the boy, running her fingers through his tresses with a slightly displeased expression on her face. "You have so many split ends, it's not funny. And you are in desperate need of a deep conditioning treatment."

She stops and smiles confidently.

"Fortunately, I can fix all of that. Purifying auras isn't the only thing I'm good at, y'know." She begins to steer Kylar towards her bathroom and the all-important hair products contained within, calling over her shoulder, "C'mon, Fred. We've gotta complete this makeover properly."

"You got it," Fred replies, scurrying to her feet, eager to see what Cordy is going to do with Kylar's unruly tresses.

"Okay, well. I have to get ready for tonight so I'll leave you gals to it," Lorne volunteers, sensing that he's not needed at present. "But don't take off too much, all right? Kylar spent years growing it to that length. If you give him a crew cut, Cordy, or one of those stupid styles that resembles a turkey's butt I'll murder you."

"Stop worrying, Lornekins," Cordy throws back breezily, already wrapping a protective towel around Kylar's narrow shoulders. "It's too pretty to chop off. I'll only remove a couple of inches off the ends, I promise. And maybe put in a couple of highlights, get rid of that I've-been-living-in-a-cave look he's got going on."

Creasing his brow, Lorne reluctantly replies, "All right, I guess he needs a little maintenance but don't go overboard."

"You are going away?" Kylar questions with slight anxiousness in his voice, more concerned with the thought of Lorne leaving him than what Cordelia is planning to do to his hair.

"Just for a few hours. I have a show to do at Caritas. You know, my club with all the mirrors and the portal you came through? I belt out a few musical numbers and then I listen to other demons sing karaoke - badly - and after they finish I tell their fortunes." He shrugs. "It ain't my dream job but it pays the bills."

Ducking into the bathroom to plant a light kiss on Kylar's apprehensively-crinkled forehead, Lorne reassures, "Don't fret, apple-cake. Cordy and Fred will take good care of you and I'll see you when I get back. All right?"

"All right," Kylar answers, sounding disappointed, but he bravely dredges up a small smile for his handsome, kind-hearted guardian.

Truth be told, Lorne doesn't want to leave Kylar at all but he has to go to work and earn the cash to take care of his surprise surrogate son. He has to be responsible now. Besides, he's the star of the show and Caritas doesn't function without him. Demons will be lining up outside the entrance waiting for him to open up and they'll get violent and destructive if he doesn't appear so he can't get out of it, no matter how much he wants to. He'll just go and put on an act for the crowd, like always, but the one thing that will make his night go a little faster and better is the thought that Kylar will be here waiting for him when he gets back.

"Bye, Lorne. Have fun!" Fred farewells as he exits the room, the older demon waving a casual hand over his shoulder, already singing one of the cheesy, corny love songs he's going to perform this evening.

"_Every night in my dreams... I see you... I fee-eel you... That is how I know you go on..._"

The familiar sound of his idol's voice melodiously filling the hallways leaves Kylar with a comforting, safe feeling and he curiously turns to face the two girls who are arming themselves with combs, scissors and other strange hairdressing implements he's never seen before.

"What is a 'turkey's butt'?"

Fred glances to Cordy for the explanation and Cordy is happy to give it.

"What Lorne was talking about is a style of hair-cut that's short at the front, sides and top and longer on the back. Like a modern mullet. Boys like to put product – a stiffening agent – into the back of it and fluff it up so it looks the fanned-out rear end of a large farm bird. It's hideous, trust me, and we certainly WON'T be doing that to your lovely locks," Cordelia firmly assures the suddenly-nervous Pylean.

"You don't have to worry, Kylar," Fred joins in with a smile. "Cordy will make you look amazing. Not that you don't already but after she's finished with you, you'll feel like a new boy."

"Good." Kylar nods, facing himself in the mirror with a thoughtful expression. "I want to feel new."

Cordy and Fred exchange a silent glance, both of them knowing what horrid, dirty, painful, unpleasant things Kylar has been through in the past and fully understanding his desire to let all that go and start afresh in this alternate dimension. Changing his appearance is part of the teen's total transformation and the two young women standing in the bathroom will endeavour to make sure that Kylar feels the newest, freshest and cleanest he's ever felt in his life.

First, Kylar gets his hair washed in the bathroom sink and then it is towel dried. When Cordelia combs it out and raises the scissors to make the first cut, he stiffens and abruptly ducks out of the way.

"Kylar?" Cordy frowns at him in puzzlement. "It's not going to hurt."

"I know," the teenager replies timidly, gathering his dreadlocks protectively in both hands, four on each side. "I was afraid you'd cut these off. Please don't. I want to keep them."

"Of course, honey," Cordy reassures him, gently squeezing his shoulder with her free hand. "I wouldn't do that. I only want to trim the ends of your hair, that's all. Is that okay?"

After a moment's contemplation, Kylar grants permission with a nod. Trusting the former princess of Pylea to keep her promise, he folds his hands in his lap and watches in the mirror with eyes like glittering rubies as Cordelia whirls around him with scissors snipping, bits of damp hair falling to the floor. It might look alarming but true to her word, she doesn't touch the dreads, only taking off about three inches from the bottom of the rest. She would have taken even less but there's a fair bit of dryness and damage in Kylar's tresses that no amount of conditioning will ever repair. His hair is very heavy and thick and that heaviness weighs it down and straightens each strand so she thins it all out, evenly layering it in order to release more of its natural wave, giving the boy's berry-coloured locks more spring and movement. Though she works quickly, she is careful not to accidentally snip off any of his dreadlocks as they seem to have some kind of special significance for him – perhaps a type of tribal thing - and besides, they add a twist of unique Kylar-style to his look.

Next, Cordy explains what highlights are and with Kylar's agreement and Fred's assistance, the older brunette woman chooses a few sections of the boy's mane and coats them in bleaching cream, wrapping them in foil to develop. She leaves the bleach on for only half the recommended time, so that each section of hair turns a subtle pinky-blonde, not yellow or white blonde which would look too harsh on Kylar's naturally vivid purple-maroon hue. When the blonding agent is rinsed out in the sink, Cordelia uses some toner to stop any yellowing from occurring, then squirts on a liberal amount of hydrating conditioner and leaves it for a couple of minutes to really soak in and nourish the kid's neglected mane. When that is washed out Fred carefully combs and detangles Kylar's mulberry strands, avoiding the precious dreadlocks, and then Cordelia finishes off with a professional blow-dry.

Gazing at himself in the mirror when she's done, Kylar almost can't believe the difference a simple hair-cut can make. His hair has more shine and bounce to it and it feels much lighter, as though it's floating and flowing around him instead of dragging down heavily on his scalp. It now sits about mid-back and it's that glossy it glimmers in the light when he moves. The streaks give an interesting new depth to the overall colour, the pinkish highlights complimenting his pale green skin tone, and when he runs his hands over it, Kylar is astounded by how soft and silky his hair is now that all the split-ends are gone. It looks new, it feels new and it definitely makes him feel like a new demon too. This is just what he needed to complete his transition from one dimension to another, to shed his old skin and slip into a different one. A better one. A freer one.

He is not an outcast clan-member, an unwanted spawn, a beaten, broken servant nor a frightened, filthy cave-dweller any longer. He doesn't have to live in fear anymore. He doesn't have to hide who he is. He can simply be Kylar, the Kylar he's always wanted to be. Unchained and unshackled. Unburdened.

All his life he has been told that he's useless, worthless. Ugly. Looking in the mirror in front of him, he now sees that this is not so. Pylea is ugly.

Not him.

"Thank you," he whispers, unable to express how sincerely grateful, touched and appreciative he is to the two human girls smiling at either side of him, pleased with their handiwork. He is practically a stranger to them – some traumatised being from another world who just jumped into this one - but already they have helped him in so many ways. They have been so understanding, considerate and giving when they didn't have to be. Though he can sense that they enjoyed doing it and don't expect any kind of repayment for their kindness, Kylar vows that one day he will pay them back, if not with money then in some other way that will mean something. Even if he can only pay them back with his heart and his loyal friendship then that is what he will do. These caring young ladies are now his friends and he will do whatever it takes to keep them.

"Thank you both so very much. For everything." With tears welling in his eyes, Kylar turns to the girls and hugs them, one after the other, hoping that even though they are not empathic Cordelia and Fred are able to feel his sincerity and gratitude and the love he is starting to grow in his soul for the two of them.

"Oh, you're more than welcome, sweetie," Cordy murmurs, hugging him back. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"You surely do," Fred agrees, smiling and giving the stick-thin boy an affectionate squeeze, feeling his bones through the new clothes he's wearing, a timely reminder that it's now about dinner time and Kylar needs feeding. "You wanna come into the kitchen with us and learn how to cook?"

"Yes, please," Kylar replies eagerly, keen to learn new skills, especially if they involve eating. "What will we be making? Broth? Gruel? Goulash?"

"Ew, God no. None of that disgusting demony slop." Cordy curls her lip, remembering the unappealing greyish substance she got fed during her brief stint as a stable-hand on Pylea. "We'll teach you how to make a proper, traditional, good old American dish."

That night Kylar discovers what macaroni and cheese is. And he loves it! After living off a few scavenged nuts and berries for months on end, everything he puts in his mouth on this dimension tastes like pure culinary heaven to him. After he has his empty belly filled with delicious cheesy mounds of steaming yellow pasta and sauce, he helps the girls wash and dry the dishes, listening to them babble on about all the yummy things in this world he simply must taste – both sweet and savoury - Cordy and Fred deciding to go shopping again tomorrow just for foods to show him, subsequently compiling a grocery list and discussing different recipes over the kitchen table. While they're doing that, Kylar excuses himself and goes to use Lorne's bathroom, lingering in the other demon's space afterwards, opening his wardrobe and touching and smelling his clothes, just to feel closer to him. The scent of his man-perfume – or 'cologne' as Cordy called it - is everywhere and it makes Kylar long for Lorne's lively presence. Sitting on the bed, Kylar wishes the other male were here, and that they could converse and make discussions. He misses the sound of Lorne's voice and he feels slightly envious, knowing that halfway across the city of LA other demons are listening to it and probably not appreciating what they're hearing, not the way Kylar does.

Lorne's not the only one who's busy that night – Angel, Wesley and Gunn have a job on as well, only theirs doesn't involve singing, more like chopping, stabbing and slicing. Connor is still out there somewhere, also chopping things up with his enormous axe, only preferring to work alone. That means that the only people left in the hotel are Fred, Cordelia and Kylar. With his full tummy, Kylar begins to get sleepy so he kicks off his new shoes (which are starting to hurt his feet, in truth) and curls up on Lorne's bed to have a nap until his handsome guardian returns. He is starting to get used to the sinking feeling of the soft mattress. It makes him think of sleeping on clouds. An added bonus is that he doesn't wake up with sore hipbones anymore, as he did when he slept on the solid cave floor. Cordelia peeks in on him once, just to make sure he's okay, and finds the horned teenager dozing contentedly, hugging one of Lorne's pillows to his small frame. She smiles and leaves him be.

Sometime later, there is a noise outside in the lobby and, being a light sleeper, it wakes Kylar. Thinking it might be Lorne, he sits up, his senses reaching out of the room, attempting to connect empathically with the returning individual. Apart from Fred and Cordelia he can sense another aura in The Hyperion but it's not the older male he's awaiting so Kylar emerges from Lorne's room, goes down the hall and peeks over the stair railing to see who it is. He discovers Connor below, coming back from a cemetery where he dusted a bunch of newly-turned vamps climbing out of fresh graves, efficiently turning them into piles of grey ash. He's dusting himself off with his hands.

Also sensing Kylar, Connor lifts his head and meets the demon boy's striking scarlet eyes, the hunter offering the peaceful Pylean a small smile of greeting. Smiling in return, Kylar experiences a flush of pleasure that Connor seems glad to see him and he waits for the auburn-haired youth at the top of the stairs, hoping they can speak for a little while. He finds Connor rather intriguing and interesting and would like to learn more about him, in particular how he came to be born from two Van-tal – two vampires - yet still remain human.

Quickly putting his weapons away and hopping up the steps, Connor stops in front of Kylar, taking in the second teenager's trendy change of clothes, something Cordelia and Fred obviously provided him with. In that fashionable black and white jeans and top combo, with the chain-belt and matching accessories, Kylar looks like some kind of model for a demon teen-girl magazine, like a young musician or actor. He's got the prettiest pair of lips Connor has ever seen, full and dark, like blood-red fruit, like pomegranates, like the mouth of a Goth princess with the velvety violet-shadowed eyes to match. And not a touch of makeup on him whatsoever. Connor would never admit it out loud but Kylar is far prettier than any girl he's ever looked at and there are a lot of girls in LA to look at. They try to make themselves attractive with their eyeliner, mascara and lipstick – all caked on thickly - but compared to Kylar's naturally-pigmented androgynous allure, they just appear trashy and fake.

"Hi," Connor mumbles to him, still a bit overwhelmed in the presence of such bewitching beauty.

Also bashful around his new ivory-complexioned friend, Kylar greets shyly, "Hello, Connor. Did you have a successful hunt?"

"Yeah. Staked some vampires. Killed a couple of demons too. Bad ones," Connor hurriedly amends but Kylar takes no offence. He understands how bad demons can be, even to their own race.

"I'm glad," he tells Connor, genuinely meaning it. He's normally averse to slaughter of any kind but if Angel's slayer son got rid of some of the horrendous wrongness in this universe tonight, then that can only be a beneficial thing. Kylar senses that that's Connor's purpose in life, his destiny. To hunt evil. To destroy it. To fight for justice. Like Angel, he is a warrior for good, a champion of this world, but to look at Connor, it's difficult to tell that. He just looks like a normal human youth. With those slender limbs, he doesn't even look strong. But he is. Powerfully so. Kylar knows because he was knocked down flat on his back by a mere tap of the boy's fist.

The blue-eyed male tilts his head, also scrutinising Kylar with an interested air.

"Your hair. You've done something different to it."

"I didn't do it. Cordelia did." Kylar reaches up and picks out one of the lighter strands. "These are called 'high-lights'."

"Nice. Suits you." Before Kylar starts to think that he's being flirted with, Connor changes the subject. "Hey, that demon doctor here earlier today… Did he come to see you?"

"Yes. I had a headache and collapsed in Lorne's room. I am fine; I just need to consume more sustenance."

Connor feels a stab of guilt, thinking of the blindfolded sparring he coaxed the frail Pylean into. "Was I pushing you too hard? Was that my fault?"

"No. It was mine," Kylar readily claims. "I should have stopped when I felt dizzy but I wanted to keep going. I would like to be able to do what you do, Connor. As well as you do it."

"You will. You're good." Connor has to admit, "You could be better than me, even."

The green-skinned teen widens his eyes in surprise. "Do you believe so?"

"Wouldn't say it otherwise. The whole empathic thing? I don't have that. It'd be handy, though," Connor contemplates thoughtfully. "I'd be able to dust a lot more vamps if I knew what they were thinking."

"I'm still learning how to use my ability. You will continue to assist me?" Kylar questions. "With the sensory training?"

"Sure. No problem." The brunette boy allows a half-smile to touch his lips. "It's fun training with you."

At the praise, Kylar lights up again, another one of those pleasant flushes sweeping through him. They're warm and wonderful. He didn't get many of these back on Pylea. Since he's been here, he's been feeling them all the time. It must be what 'happy' feels like.

"So Kylar, you doing anything now?"

The Pylean youngling shakes his head, guessing that he's about to be invited to participate in some type of human social activity. "I am only waiting for Lorne to return."

"Well, until he does, you wanna come back to my room? We can hang out, eat, listen to music."

"Music?" At the very word, Kylar feels excited. "Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you."

"C'mon," Connor urges with a lift of his chin, beginning to head down the other end of the corridor, towards an ascending stairway. "I live further up here. Away from all the old people."

Connor isn't just being civil to Kylar because he has to, or because the demon is girlishly cute. Connor actually likes the guy and admires his calmness, resilience and inner strength. Kylar's been through some serious shit – including slavery and starvation - but he hasn't let it beat him or get him down. Connor sees a little bit of himself in the second teenager. Not the having horns part but the growing up on a hell dimension and then arriving in LA part. He knows all too well what it's like to be alone in a strange world, not knowing how it works, who to trust, how to survive. How to behave. As they are the same age, Connor takes it upon himself to educate Kylar in adolescent matters of interest, one of which is music, switching his stereo on and loading up a few compact discs once they are within the privacy of his bedroom.

Before Connor can hit the PLAY button, though, Kylar peeks at him with apprehensive eyes.

"Connor, are we going to be friends?"

The human teenager graces him with a slight smile. "Sure. We kind of already are. This is what friends do – spend time together. Doing stuff we both like."

"Well, if we are to be friends and to share aspects of our lives then…" Kylar swallows nervously. "Then there is something you should know about me first."

"Yeah? What's that?" Connor asks nonchalantly.

Straightening his spine, Kylar inhales a brave breath, deciding to be bluntly honest.

"I'm a murderer."

Not expecting THAT answer, Connor's eyes go round with shock. Staring at the polite, delicate, harmless-looking youth in front of him, he exclaims dubiously, "You are?"

Kylar nods and lowers his gaze, not proud of it but also knowing it was something he had to do to become free. "My mother sold me to a farmer when I was fifteen winters old. He was my master and I was his slave. He did this to me."

Turning around, Kylar lifts up the back of his shirt, showing Connor all the white slashes that ruin his green skin, all the violently inflicted lashes and whip-strikes that intersect and overlap from the top of his pants to his shoulder blades. That's as far as the young demon has lifted the T-shirt but the marks keep on going beyond that, reaching up towards his neck. His whole bony back is one awful latticework of scar-tissue.

At the sight, Connor sucks in a horrified breath. When Kylar drops his shirt and turns around he sees the same horrified expression on Connor's face.

"I killed the farmer," Kylar continues quietly. "I threw a venomous snake at him and watched him die from the poison of the bite. That's the day I escaped and ran into the woods."

Angel's son just keeps staring at Kylar, trying to imagine this gentle, nature-loving vegetarian murdering someone. On purpose.

Toying with his decorative vinyl wrist cuff – the one covering his captivity chain-scars – Kylar questions with uneasiness in his tone, "Does this knowledge change your opinion of me?"

Blinking, Connor answers slowly, "Yeah. Yeah, it does, actually."

Feeling his stomach sink, Kylar whispers, "You do not wish to be friends with me anymore."

"Never said that. In fact, I like you even more now."

Drawing his hairless brows together in uncertainty, Kylar stares at the second eighteen year old. "But I killed another living being. I took a life."

"So?" Connor lifts a shoulder. "I do that all the time. Why do you think my nickname is The Destroyer? Besides, after what your 'master' did to you, he had it coming."

His spirit lifting, Kylar gazes at Connor with hopeful redcurrant eyes. "You do not think I am a bad person?"

"Hell, no. I think you're awesome!"

The complete lack of judgement on the other boy's behalf gives Kylar such a sense of overwhelming relief, only just realising how much he longs for Connor's acceptance and friendship, something he never had back on Pylea – a companion of his own age, someone who liked to be around him and didn't care that he was different to everybody else. Apart from animals, Kylar never had a true childhood friend. Now it seems he's just gained one in the blue-eyed Van-tal spawn – a thin boy with the strength of ten men and the heart of a champion.

"I think you're…awesome…too," Kylar replies bashfully, rewarded by one of Connor's rare grins.

Instructed to take a seat on something called a 'bean bag', Kylar gingerly perches upon what looks like a sack filled with dried peas. He'd rather sit straight on the hard, solid floor but doesn't want to offend Connor by refusing the offer. The stuffed sack makes light crunching sounds and shifts unstably when he sits on it, causing him to give a tiny anxious gasp and fling his arms out as he sinks downward, but the shifting soon settles underneath and around him, proving to be surprisingly comfortable and supportive once it stops moving. Used to the peculiarity of this soft frameless furniture, Connor plonks down on his own bag of beans, pressing buttons on a black rectangular item named a 'remote control'.

Due to his habit of spying on Lorne singing to himself back in the fields of Pylea, Kylar thinks he knows what music is, but he is astounded beyond belief when he hears the voices coming out of Connor's speakers, some airy and magical, others scarily loud and booming and angry. There are child-like, quirky girl-voices as well as mature, crystal-clear female sopranos while the male singers vary widely from resonant and soulfully seductive to growling and snarling, to playful and cheeky. And then there are all the different musical instruments, each one producing noises Kylar has never imagined, noises he didn't even know existed, from crashing cymbals to wailing guitars to deep throbbing bass that seems to vibrate right through the centre of his body.

These fascinating sounds are miraculously stored on flat, circular devices that shine with all the colours of the rainbow, Connor filling him in on the different styles of bands and artists around from rock, alternative and heavy metal to pop, rap and techno. Kylar rapidly learns to appreciate this wondrous audio stimulation and the extensive range of emotions that vocals and melodies invoke in him - some songs making him joyously euphoric, others bringing him to tears with such despairing sadness, some making him blush with sensual and explicit lyrics, and some summoning an emboldening defiance and rebelliousness, particularly what Connor calls 'punk'.

Fetching two cans of cola, Connor gives one to his guest – also sharing a large packet of Gummi Bears between them - but Kylar barely even notices what he's drinking and snacking on, too captivated by the songs being played for him. When he first hears the haunting voice of Amy Lee from Evanescence, Kylar's eyes go very wide in delighted astonishment, and then as he loses himself in the exquisite, evocative spell of the piano and violins, they fall closed, as if to shut out everything else so he can listen with all of his being. As the song plays on, Connor watches in amazement as goosebumps form on Kylar's bare arms, the young demon hugging himself and shivering with indescribable pleasure. When a teardrop slips out from between his lashes and trickles down his cheek, Kylar doesn't even realise it, utterly absorbed in the emotional experience he's having.

Watching the changing expressions on the other teenager's green face amuses Connor and touches him at the same time. If he thought Lorne was sensitively attuned, then Kylar is fifty times more so. It's like he doesn't just hear the music, he _feels_ it, all the way in his heart, the songs affecting him in precisely the way they were intended. He has no hang-ups about what music is cool or uncool, be it boy band or sappy chick stuff; Kylar is mesmerised by it all. He could listen to it for hours on end and the only thing that finally drags him away from Connor's room is Lorne, Kylar intuitively sensing the other Empath's return to the hotel. He graciously thanks Connor for the entertaining evening and the refreshments, and then rushes off to meet his beloved guardian.

Lorne smells strongly like cigarette smoke and alcohol. His voice is raspy from using it so much and he seems tired – his empathic abilities temporarily worn out by the many psychic readings he performed over the last few hours - but when he sees Kylar skipping down the stairs to greet him in the lobby, his eyes brighten and he still has enough energy to smile dazzlingly and sweep the kid into a fond hug. As Lorne fixes himself a soothing milk-based nightcap and they make their way back upstairs, Kylar tells him all about his musical discoveries, more animated and energised than Lorne has seen him so far. Although, that could be due to the soda and candy that sweet-tooth Connor would have no doubt given him, Kylar most likely still buzzing on his first sugar-rush. Smiling and nodding at the appropriate places, Lorne gives his own overused vocal chords a rest and lets Kylar do all the talking.

"And then we listened to Iron Maiden, which is not a young woman made of metal as I first thought but a band of men with instruments and a lead singer and the song I liked most of all was Run to the Hills because that's what I did when I escaped the angry mob chasing after me back on Pylea and if I hadn't done that then I wouldn't have found the portal and I wouldn't have been able to come here and find you!" Out of breath from that uncharacteristically lengthy sentence, Kylar stops and glances at Lorne's silent figure, unable to distinguish the reason why his usually chatty custodian isn't saying anything.

"Is it considered improper for me to visit with Connor while you are not here, Lorne?" Kylar asks fretfully, not wanting to displease his primary caretaker. "If you would prefer me not to do so, please inform me now and I will not go there again."

"Don't be silly. Of course you can visit him," Lorne answers, waving away Kylar's worries and ushering him inside the bedroom. "As long as he's nice to you, I don't mind."

"Oh, he is. He's very nice. Thoughtful and quiet. It's hard to believe that he is called 'The Destroyer'."

Lorne snorts into his drink. "You haven't seen him with an axe yet. And you don't want to. Trust me, it's not pretty."

Sitting on the queen-sized mattress, Kylar makes a quizzical expression. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes when we go to a job, he comes back with 'souvenirs'. And by 'souvenirs' I mean severed body parts." The older demon grimaces and sets his glass down on the low wooden table at the end of his bed. "I'm surprised he didn't show you his gruesome dried ear-necklace."

"He is a hunter. I realise he kills things," Kylar acknowledges. "But unlike hunters back on our home world, Connor only kills evil creatures. To save people from them." He glances sideways at Lorne as the taller Pylean shucks off his jacket, removes his silk cravat and starts to unbutton his shirt, his back to Kylar.

"Lorne, will I be able to participate in – what do you call them – jobs? With the others?"

"One day, maybe. When you've done enough training. Protecting the innocent and fighting the good fight…It's damn hard work, kiddo."

"I am not bothered by hard work. I wish to earn my keep here, as they do."

Turning, Lorne unintentionally gives Kylar a glimpse of his green, spotted chest, visible through the gap in his opened shirt. Kylar even catches a flash of smooth stomach which sends one of those small, secret flushes through him.

"Listen up, my little asparagus stalk," Lorne begins in a mildly chastising tone. "You're nowhere near fit enough or strong enough to even be _thinking_ about working yet. Besides, I am voluntarily accepting guardianship of you so you don't need to pay for anything. All you need to concentrate on right now is getting healthy again, okay?"

He frowns at his scrawny ward. "Did you have dinner? Candy doesn't count."

"Yes. Winifred and Princess Cordelia showed me how to make macaroni and cheese earlier. It's very tasty." Suddenly remembering what else the girls did, Kylar interjects, "Oh! Did you happen to notice my hair?"

As an excitable Kylar spins around to show him its neatened, highlighted layers, Lorne chuckles and replies, "I sure did, dumpling. I didn't think it was possible but somehow Cordy has made you look even cuter than before."

His back still turned, Kylar beams happily, high on sugar and Lorne's flattery. "Touch it. Feel how soft it is now."

Never one to refuse a tempting invitation, Lorne shrugs, steps closer and smooths his palm over the boy's head, taking a lightened lock of wavy mulberry between his fingertips and letting it slip through to the end, feeling its improved texture and glossiness for himself. On any other boy the pink streaks would seem questionable and unwisely-chosen but on Kylar they are perfect, matching with his feminine features and sensitive soul. Somehow, Lorne's handsomely-hooked nose finds its way into that lovely long cascade of rippling hair and before he knows what he's doing, Lorne is smelling it, breathing in deep and closing his crimson eyes to savour the scent. Not only does Kylar's hair possess the colour of berries but it even smells like them too, like fruits of the forest and wild flowers. Being this close, he can even detect the fragrance of Kylar's skin and it's like morning dew on a mossy rock, like the fine mist coming off a waterfall, like everything pure and pristine found in nature. In a world that can be rotten, dirty and diseased, Lorne finds Kylar's clean, fresh purity such a delicious drawcard, such an innocent enticement. Standing there a whole head taller behind the boy, Lorne slides his left hand into that curtain of purple-red, loving the silken feel and the warm thick mass of it, slowly combing through the satiny strands as he continues inhaling the youth's intoxicating perfume.

Feeling Lorne's gentle, exploring fingers in his hair gives Kylar luscious little tingles that spread over his scalp and down the nape of his neck, making him shiver with the sensuousness of his guardian's caresses. He is aware that Lorne is attracted to his scent and is not offended in the least. It pleases him that Krevlornswath is drawn to him in such a manner. Kylar is similarly attracted to Lorne's scent too – that masculine aroma of mystical spice sitting just beneath the chemical layer of smoke soaked into his cinnamon-coloured suit. Starting to feel delightfully dizzy, Kylar lets his breath out with a small sigh, leaning backwards into Lorne's bigger body, pressing nearer to his care-giver and fluttering his lashes shut, blissfully letting Lorne touch him. The teenager's agreeable reaction awakens Lorne's desires even further and he slips an arm around Kylar's frail form, pulling him closer. He feels a pair of protruding shoulder blades against his chest and some sharps knobs of a spine but Lorne ignores those, focusing on the softness of the surrounding flesh, on Kylar's willowy waist and slightly rounded tummy, full of nourishing food. The boy's bottom is firm against him, stirring Lorne's groin into life.

Kylar's so young and tender and warm - just what Lorne needs to help him relax after enduring a wearisome night at the club, listening to other people's problems and trying to solve them, one after the other, like a living vending machine dispensing fortunes. Or misfortunes, in some cases. What he sees with his psychic eye often makes his job so damn depressing. He missed Kylar like crazy every second they were apart but now he has the eighteen year old embodiment of loveliness in his arms, all dreamy and docile, just ripe for the taking, like a fragrantly-full fig on the tip of a branch. Forgetting about his demanding karaoke business, Lorne's head instead fills with fantasy images of a near-nude Kylar lying back on a carpet of fallen leaves in the dappled light of the setting sun, ivy woven in his hair like a woodland faun, the beautiful boy shifting his shapely legs apart and beckoning with inviting scarlet eyes for Lorne to come join him on the forest floor, to remove the sash of silkworm-spun silk from around his hips and kiss all of that bare, olive skin, to taste the sweetness of his nectar and coax musical notes of husky pleasure from Kylar's parted plum-coloured lips.

Being held so closely from behind, Kylar must be able to feel Lorne's demonhood beginning to harden against his lower back, and he might even catch a glimpse of the erotic visions in Lorne's head, but the inexperienced youth doesn't react in revulsion or fear. If anything, he seems to melt against Lorne even more, one of Kylar's slim hands finding Lorne's thigh and clutching it tremblingly, not wanting this wonderful new intimacy to end.

Caught in Kylar's unknowing spell of enchantment, Lorne breathes in again, deeply, face still buried in the kid's gorgeous hair. Sweeping those berry-red tresses aside, he reveals the younger Pylean's neck, jaw and delicately-formed earlobe. There are darker green veins visible in the side of that pale green throat, a white vinyl collar/necklet fastened around it, showing how slender and graceful it is. Lorne's fingertips brush up the exposed part of Kylar's throat and trace around the shell of the boy's ear, receiving another one of those delightful shivers in response. Wanting to explore all of the youth's striking model-like features, Lorne shifts his hand across to one cheekbone, outlining the fragile angularity of it, and then skates around Kylar's eye socket and smooth violet-shaded brow. He continues further up over a speckled forehead, skimming lightly over dark skin-cracks surrounding the base of one petite mahogany horn. Lorne caresses it, gently stroking over the grooved point with the pad of his index finger. Horns are extremely responsive to touch, despite being made out of blunt bone, and Kylar gasps softly at the sensual stroke, the sound snapping Lorne out of his trance and filling him with horror.

Good God, what is he DOING?

Hastily unwrapping his arms from around Kylar's skinny body, Lorne steps back in shock, away from the too-tempting teenager. You don't just go fondling another demon's horns without being asked to. Though visible, they're actually quite a private, personal area of one's anatomy. He may as well have shoved his hand down the front of Kylar's pants with how brazen that move was. Lorne should have known better. Kylar's not some lusty fan in his audience, slipping into his dressing room backstage to take a quick tumble on the couch after a show. Kylar isn't easy. Far from it. He's completely innocent and even though he seems willing and submissive, he doesn't deserve to be taken advantage of in that way. A disturbing thought strikes Lorne, a reason as to why Kylar – a former captive who by all rights should be highly uncomfortable with physical contact – was letting himself be manhandled so freely. Since he's still weak and is not able to work yet, he probably thinks that this is how he can 'earn' his keep here. By allowing Lorne to have him. The idea of Kylar whoring himself for food and a place to stay sickens Lorne, his own appalling actions towards the whip-scarred child disgusting and shaming him.

"I need to take a shower," he mutters as he turns away, feeling incredibly dirty. "Go to sleep, Kylarkmar. It's past your bedtime, young man."

Wondering what he did wrong, Kylar gazes yearningly at the closed bathroom door, his skin still tingling from where Lorne touched it, especially down the side of his face and neck. Being empathic, he knew that Lorne enjoyed the contact, just as Kylar had. But then the older male just switched off, like one of these electric bulbs of light installed in the ceiling. Had Kylar offended Lorne in some manner? He doesn't know. Lorne wouldn't tell him, his mind shut off like the door he's now showering behind. On this dimension people's behavioural responses – either human or demon – are vastly different than they were on Pylea. There, you knew exactly how anyone felt and they weren't afraid to tell you so, quite often loudly and pompously. Here, it appears that there is an acceptable level of sharing emotion with others and then there's a point where it cuts off totally. On this world people must keep a lot of their innermost feelings hidden and not even an Empath like Kylar can clearly decipher them. From what he's witnessed so far, he is beginning to believe that the intricacies of American social interaction will confound him tremendously. It will almost certainly take him a while to figure it all out. But Connor did warn him about the expected inter-dimensional culture change and its difficulty to grasp.

Eventually sighing, Kylar comes to the conclusion that Lorne's just tired. He's not angry with Kylar. He's been working and his aura is drained. That's all. He just needs to recharge like that portal Kylar came through. Now that he dwells upon it, Kylar realises that he feels tiredness too. His own emotions got quite the work out when he listened to Connor's shiny compact-discs of music and it is quite late now, well past midnight, in fact. Excepting Angel, who is by nature a nocturnal creature, everyone else in the hotel have gone to their beds. He can sense them sleeping, their auras giving off softer, dimmer vibrations than they do when they're awake. Even Connor is calling it quits for the night, washing the vampire ash out of his hair and getting ready for slumber. Kylar decides to do the same, as he was told to. Lorne is his parental figure of authority now and he must do what Lorne instructs him, so Kylar chooses one of the pyjamas that Cordelia and Fred bought him – a soft organic cotton pair – and slips into them, buttoning the top up to his neck and securely tying the drawstring around his scrawny waist so they don't slip off. He removes his wrist cuffs and necklet, laying them on the bedside table nearest to his side of the mattress. The girls have brought all his new clothing into Lorne's room, leaving the boxes and bags stacked neatly on the floor until Lorne makes space for it in the wardrobe. With the muted sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom, Kylar climbs beneath the sheets of Lorne's bed and waits for his guardian to join him. Unbeknownst to Kylar, the sugar-hit has finally worn off and soon he feels sleep tugging at him, drawing him into its dark, quiet embrace.

Meanwhile, Lorne is tugging at himself in the shower. Carefully concealing his thoughts and emotions, of course. His demon-flesh is aching and throbbing like an infected tooth and if he doesn't do this, he won't be able to sleep a wink at all tonight, let alone lay next to Kylar without mauling him. Damn, Lorne hasn't gotten laid in what seems like eons. That's why he got all gropey with the kid who's meant to be his adoptive son, for all intents and purposes. Well, enough of that. No more hair-sniffing, no more indecent fantasies and definitely no more horn-touching. At least not Kylar's horn, anyway. It was a huge, huge mistake and a severe lapse of judgement on Lorne's behalf, not to mention a breach of the naïve boy's complete trust in him. It certainly can't happen again and this is the best way the passionate Pylean knows how to relieve his pent-up frustrations without morphing into a larger, uglier version of himself and going on a violent smash-rampage like some kind of demonic Hulk.

As the short-haired Deathwok-clan deserter tips his head back and lets the hot water pour over his patterned chest and shoulders, he takes his stiffened green organ with a firm grip and pulls it with slow squeezes, thinking about the busty blonde waitress at Caritas, the hot Hispanic hustler he passed on the street earlier - anybody other than the sweet-smelling teenager in his bed right now.

Cradling and rolling his heavily swollen pouches in his other hand, Lorne thinks of the delicious pair of humanoid Ho'kio demons who were at the club tonight - not singing, just watching everyone else and sharing drinks at the bar. Ho'kio demons are always born in twos, as twins. They weren't parasitic twins but they may as well have been, going by how intimately and suggestively they were dancing together later on in the night. Their species is known for being promiscuous and ambiguous and these two sure were, with one of the siblings appearing very feminine and the other more masculine, but both extremely arousing with long jet-black hair, flat chests and lithe builds, each criss-crossed in strips of leather that showed far too much white skin. Together, with their mix of male and female qualities, they are able to lure anyone they choose as a mating partner and tonight they were giving Lorne the come-play-with-us signals, repeatedly glancing at him with sultry, identically-dark eyes and licking their luscious lips in unison. One of them had a tongue ring. Lorne would have quite happily gone home with both of them for a bit of demony twincest if he didn't have Kylar expectantly waiting for him back at the hotel. But flaming hell, those two creatures were the hottest things he's seen in a long time and he almost regrets not taking them up on their offer. Actually, he belatedly wishes he HAD gone to mate with them because then there'd be no need for what he's doing now.

Rubbing his palm over the deep cranberry-coloured head of his thickened member, he imagines the evilly-seductive twins kneeling on the floor in front of him, pleasuring him with two mouths, kissing his belly and expertly working their way down. He pictures them flickering their long pointed tongues over his stomach and upper thighs, slithering over his heated flesh like black snakes, wrapping all the way around his shaft in ways mere humans couldn't achieve. He visualises the doppelganger demons as they greedily suck on him, one after the other, and then turn to shamelessly kiss each other while he gazes down upon them with blazing crimson eyes. Jacking himself harder, Lorne imagines grabbing the more feminine one by the hair and shoving into those sinful ebony lips, feeling that tongue-stud slide along his underside. He pictures screwing the pretty one's mouth while the other muscular Ho'kio uses his lengthy oral appendage to probe between his slenderer twin's wantonly-spread legs, finding a tiny black hole and sliding slickly into it. Feeling his climax cresting, Lorne bites his lip to muffle his moan, his fist pumping furiously. In his mind the kneeling demon twins merge to form one being. Somehow, that face he's thrusting into changes and becomes Kylar's. It's now Kylar on his knees in front of Lorne, sucking him with those wine-red lips, Lorne's fingers clenched in Kylar's rippling purple mane, his hard green length slamming in and out of the boy's virgin mouth.

Violating it.

Bracing himself against the tiled wall with one arm, Lorne feels his legs turn into jelly as he explosively comes, spurts of thick, built-up bodily fluid surging from the organ held in his fisted hand and descending into the shower-spray, swirling down the drain in dissolving white strings.

Gasping, he stands in the same position for a minute or two, warm water raining down upon his trembling, pleasure-shocked limbs while recovering his senses. When he does, Lorne is overcome with guilt and shame at what he was thinking about at the moment of climax but he's too damn exhausted to punish himself. What's done is done. He's got it out of his system; he's expelled his lewd urges and so now he can just get on with being the father and role model he's expected to be.

By the time he dries off, puts on his dressing gown and returns to the bedroom, Kylar is already fast asleep and has no idea what sordid thing Lorne was doing in the shower cubicle. Thank God. Even though his physical needs have been taken care of, the older demon contemplates sleeping on the couch away from Kylar, just to be on the safe side, but he knows that if he did that he'd only wake up to find the kid lying on the floor next to him again. For some reason, Kylar likes him nearby. Sighing resignedly, Lorne pulls on his pyjama pants and slips beneath the covers, careful not to disturb the other boy with his movements. Turning the lamp off and stuffing a pillow under his weary head, Lorne sighs again, rolling over with his back to Kylar's tranquil, evenly-breathing figure.

Before he closes his eyes, Lorne makes a sombre vow to himself.

Tomorrow, for both their sakes, Kylarkmar has to move out into his own room.


	5. Independence

A/N: Thank you so very much to everyone for remembering and reading this fic, including crazylove4MCR, TardisAngel21, DyingWithoutTheScars, Insanitywithaprettyface, Full Moon Child and as always The Happy Monkey of Doom! *hugs you all* I adore all your comments and love that you enjoy the interaction between Lorne and Kylar so much. I still have about another 6 or 7 chapters to go before the end. It might take me a while to post all those chapters but I definitely will so don't worry that I won't finish it. Thanks again and I hope you like this update!

…

Part 5.

Lorne wakes up with his arms around a still-sleeping Kylar. So much for keeping his hands to himself. Oh, well. At least he's not groping the boy or touching anything he shouldn't be touching. It's just an innocent hug. Kylar feels so nice in his embrace – so slender, soft and warm - and Lorne hangs onto the moment for as long as he can because he knows this is the last time he'll be able to do it. Tonight Kylar will be sleeping in his own bed, separate from Lorne.

That's exactly what he tells Kylar when he wakes up, Lorne retracting his arms and reluctantly moving away from his young ward.

"I must choose another room? And leave yours?" Kylar's lovely long lashes are blinking in bewilderment. "But why, Krevlornswath? Does my presence disturb your nightly slumber? Do I snore like a pig?"

"No, of course not. And it's not that I don't want to spend time with you, my little green frog," Lorne hastily assures him, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, his fingers scratching through short golden-brown hair, knowing it must look unflatteringly pillow-mussed and flat.

"It's just what grown boys do here on this dimension. They require someplace private, someplace of their own where they can keep their own stuff. I know on Pylea all the children of a clan share a room like sardines packed into a tin but here, they want to live independently from their siblings, parents or guardians."

Suspecting that Kylar might be influenced by the other teenager in the hotel, Lorne adds, "Connor is the same age as you. And he sleeps in his own room. I think you should too."

"Oh. I see." Kylar thoughtfully turns onto his side, throwing rumpled mulberry hair over his shoulder and propping a small chin on his hand, his brow knitted as he digests this information.

Knitting his brows in a similar fashion, Lorne gives Kylar a concerned look. "You are not afraid to sleep by yourself, are you?"

Wanting to prove that he can be independent and is not a baby who's scared of the dark, Kylar proudly shakes his head. "I am not afraid. Back on our home world I slept in a cave all alone, surrounded by poisonous spiders and centipedes. Even before that I was alone in the stables, if you do not count the horses. I am used to being solitary."

"So you'll choose your own room today?"

"I will," Kylar replies resolutely, sitting up in the bed. "And I will sleep there tonight."

"Good. Great," Lorne says in relief, although he can't help feeling sad that he won't get to wrap his arms around Kylar's fragile frame and hold him protectively during the night anymore. As much as he loves hugging Kylar and smelling his silky hair, being too close to him can only lead to danger and it's best for both of them if the boy stays in his own bed, far away from Lorne's wandering hands.

The two demons get up and get dressed, Lorne insisting that Kylar do it in the bathroom so he doesn't get tempted to sneak peeks at the kid's intriguingly androgynous figure. After Lorne has fixed his hair and returned it to his fashionably spiked style, they have breakfast at the kitchen table with Fred, Cordy, Wesley and Gunn, the girls cooking this time, the usual morning chattiness ensuing over coffee and eggs, everyone trying to include Kylar in their conversations. Connor and Angel are still sleeping.

After the dishes are done, Gunn and Wes go to train in the lobby while the girls disappear and do their own things. Kylar sets about the task of choosing his new bedroom. Though he could have any room on any level in the large hotel, including a couple of stories up where Connor resides, Kylar picks one just down the hall from Lorne, far enough away so he will have his privacy but close enough so that he can call his guardian if he ever needs to for any reason. Together, he and Lorne clean and prepare the walls of the room (both of them wearing overalls, Kylar's long hair tied back with a bandanna) and begin painting in Kylar's chosen colours – eggplant purple with leaf-green trims. One the paint is dry they take the dust sheets off the antique furniture, vacuum the carpet and velvet drapes, make the bed up with fresh linens, stock the bathroom with towels and essential items and transfer all of Kylar's new clothes and shoes into the wardrobe. The clothes are the only possessions that Kylar actually owns at present so Lorne shows him how to buy things from some mysterious place called 'The Internet' which seems to be contained in a plastic box with a glass front. Kylar doesn't understand what it is or how it works but the device appears to be similar to a crystal ball, with images appearing inside it.

Using something called a 'mouse' but which in reality looks nothing like one, Lorne clicks on these images and views them in a closer format, asking Kylar's opinion before ordering them. Kylar's mouth is open with awe at this strange store-in-a-box, too busy marvelling at it and staring at the screen to say anything really helpful, thereby Lorne does all the choosing, the older demon selecting and purchasing some more things to personalise the boy's living area with including lamps, paintings of landscapes and rainforests, a few indoor plants, clay vases, large shells, wooden figurines of animals and other such natural decorative items – anything to help Kylar feel more settled and that the bedroom is actually his. Kylar also gains a CD player so he can listen to songs of his choosing whenever he likes without having to wait for Connor to be home.

Lorne would love to take Kylar décor shopping in actual stores where he can touch and feel the items that will soon be his but he doesn't think the former cave-dweller is properly assimilated to this dimension yet and it would be too overwhelming for him. It doesn't matter where they come from - Kylar is tremendously excited to see all the wonderful things as they are delivered to the hotel, spending all day opening parcels and boxes and gasping with delight at what he finds inside, placing the objects where he wants them to go, with Lorne's interior design assistance, of course.

Surprisingly, Kylar even asks if they can buy some books. Even though he grew up in a poor clan and all of his siblings are uneducated and ignorant, he wants to learn to read and write and Lorne gladly agrees to teach him. Or at least hire the kid a tutor. In twenty minutes, Lorne has that sorted as well, sourcing a mature demon lady on a tutoring website to come into the hotel for two hours every day to teach Kylar written English. She will help him with speaking it as well, even though Kylar is quite articulate and well-spoken already.

Lorne doesn't care how much this is costing him; all he wants is for Kylar to be content and for the boy to have everything he needs. Besides, running a nightclub is a profitable business and Lorne has a nice nest egg saved up. It's a good feeling to spend money on something other than himself, or on repairing his damaged club, which has been trashed far too many times lately, even with the non-violence spell around it.

At the end of a very busy day, taking only breaks for lunch and dinner, Lorne and Kylar stand back and survey their hard work, paint and dust dirtying up their overalls and smudging their faces. Admiring his gorgeous new bedroom, the younger Pylean feels a grand sense of accomplishment as well as wonder and awe that all he sees around him now belongs to him alone. He's never had more to his name than a tatty old robe and a pocketful of pebbles so to have an abundance of beautiful possessions now makes him feel like the richest creature on the planet. But the one thing he has that he values above everything else is standing right beside him. His rescuer. His protector. His idol. His secret love.

"How can I ever thank you, Krevlornswath?" Kylar says, turning to the taller male with gratefulness in his pretty crimson eyes. "You have done so much for me today."

And always, he adds silently, recalling how the memory of Lorne kept him going back on Pylea, kept him alive and encouraged while he was hiding from the vengeance-seeking villagers and living in that insect-infested hole in the hillside, trying day after day to get the portal in the forest to open so he could escape.

"You don't need to thank me, sweet avocado." Lorne smiles, gently rubbing a smear of dark purple paint from the kid's pale green brow. "Seeing you happy is thanks enough."

"I am very happy. I love my room." Kylar smiles back, returning the favour and brushing some dust from the tip of Lorne's nose. "It is so much nicer than the cave and there are no centipedes to bite me."

"There sure aren't," Lorne chuckles, thinking how damn cute the teenager looks in a pair of denim overalls with a white t-shirt underneath, his wavy reddish-violet hair held back out of his face with a blue bandanna, blobs and splotches of eggplant and leaf-toned acrylic semi-gloss all over him. He looks like a little painter-boy. Despite normally avoiding any type of manual labour, Lorne actually had a great time today. Though he's dirty and his arms ache from using the paint roller on the ceiling and lugging heavy boxes up the stairs, spending time with Kylar was definitely worth the effort. Hell, he could spend the day digging up potatoes with the kid and it would be enjoyable.

"Did you have fun?"

Kylar nods at Lorne's question, still smiling. He brushes another bit of dust away from the Host's strong chin, Kylar suddenly getting an idea of how he can thank his generous care-giver and provider. Before he loses his sudden bout of courage, the eighteen year old demon-boy gets up on tip-toes and softly presses his lips to Lorne's cheek, empathically conveying warm, appreciative and loving thoughts towards the older Pylean.

"Thank you so much," he whispers, kissing Lorne's smooth skin once more before shyly drawing away, wondering if that was enough. When he dares to peek up at the man he adores, he finds Lorne standing there with what appears to be a look of intense longing on his handsome face, as though he wants more. So sure of it, Kylar locks gazes with the other male, slowly curling his slim hands around the base of Lorne's neck, fingertips slipping into short blond-tipped hair. Kylar's heart races, as if he were fleeing from Flame Beasts, but without the fear for his life. His nerves tingle. Lifting up on his toes again, he begins to close the distance between their mouths, wanting to give Lorne a proper kiss this time. On the lips. He's never given one of these to anyone before but he supposes he can figure out how it's done.

Realising what the boy is intending to do, Lorne pulls back, frowning. "Kylar, you don't owe me for anything I give you. You don't have to earn your place here. I told you that before."

"I know," Kylar breathes, needing to show that his affection runs deeper than simple gratitude. He senses that Lorne would be uncomfortable being kissed right now but perhaps there's something else Kylar can do for him…

Slowly moving one girlish hand up, the younger Empath sweeps over Lorne's jaw and cheekbone, tracing around the unique dark-green patterns on his skin, Kylar keeping their eyes held in a close, connected gaze, ruby into scarlet. Though the older male is consumed by conflicting emotions (like need, desire, guilt and alarm – desperately trying to conceal all of them from Kylar) Lorne still stands there and lets himself be caressed by the gentle nature-child. Kylar's fingers are so soft and light, his touches like fairy wings. Lorne knows he should make Kylar stop but he feels helpless against the boy's innocently silken seduction.

Remembering how deliciously nice it was when Lorne held him from behind and stroked one of his horns, Kylar attempts to give his caring custodian the same special feeling of warmth. Reaching up past a spotted temple, he finds Lorne's left horn, Kylar inquisitively investigating its length and width, tracing the hard, almost woody texture of the curving mahogany peak and the grooves along it. Lorne gives a jolt. To anyone else, it appears to be just a bit of dull bone. To Lorne, it's shockingly sensitive and when Kylar touches it, it's like being touched on the dick. Unwanted erotic thoughts flood his brain, most notably the sinful fantasy he had last night of thrusting into Kylar's lush, burgundy mouth.

A teenager's mouth.

A virgin teenager.

"Stop it," Lorne blurts in horror, grabbing Kylar's wrist and yanking it away. "Don't touch me!"

Confusedly pulling his hand back, Kylar stares up at Lorne, wondering what is wrong.

In a shaky tone, Lorne tries to explain, "I'm not mad at you. You just…you shouldn't do that."

"I am sorry." Kylar bows his head, upset at offending Lorne. "I did not know it was improper."

"Well, it is. I'm your guardian and you are…"

Far too young and tempting for Lorne's comfort.

"Just don't do that again, Kylarkmar. Please."

"I'm sorry," Kylar mumbles again, realising that he made a mistake touching Lorne in such an intimate manner. He could have sworn this was what Lorne wanted but on the other hand, Kylar doesn't know the ways of this world and what acceptable behaviour is or not. Apparently this is not. Apparently it's okay for Lorne to touch Kylar that way but not the other way around. The young Pylean has no idea why. This dimension is turning out to be a very perplexing place for him. Things were simpler, back in the forest. Much more dangerous, but simpler. At least he knew what was going on there.

"Have a shower and go to bed, broccoli," Lorne says in a gentler tone, sensing Kylar's bewilderment and squeezing his shoulder in sympathy. "It's been a long day and you worked hard. You need some rest now."

The red-eyed boy nods in silence, glancing yearningly after Lorne's retreating figure as the older man leaves the room, going to take his own shower and wash the dirty thoughts out of his head.

Later, a clean and warm Kylar is lying in his new bed with its crisp new sheets, the scent of fresh paint and furniture wax in the air. Outside the half-open window he can hear traffic and sirens. But inside the room it is quiet, only the ticking of a wall clock and his own breathing to break the stillness. It doesn't bother him to be alone. He isn't, really. There are other people in the hotel. He can feel them, sense their auras. Most strongly of all, he can sense Lorne's nearness down the hall and it reassures him to know that his protective custodian is so close. That night Kylar sleeps well.

But Lorne doesn't.

He too can sense Kylar and knowing that the boy is nearby, but just out of reach, drives the older male to distraction. Lorne misses the kid, even more than he thought he would. His arms feel empty. His bed feels empty. His whole room feels empty. But there's nothing he can do about it except get used to it. After all, it was HIS idea to kick Kylar out in the first place.

A few restless hours later the frustrated demon hears Connor, Gunn and Wes returning from a job. They had gone to some caves near the coast to eradicate a nest of biker vampires. Angel was off on his own mission, their broody boss preferring to work solo. Still unable to sleep, Lorne goes downstairs in his dressing gown to see how everyone went. Plus, it gives him an excuse to make a drink. Maybe a good, strong shot of whiskey will help him get some shut-eye.

"Hey, guys," he mumbles. "How'd it go?"

"Great," Connor enthuses, twirling his favourite double-sided axe, the teenager still high on the adrenaline of the fight. "You should have seen me. I took off two vamp-heads in one swing! It was awesome."

Then he remembers that he doesn't like Lorne very much and settles back into a scowl. "Not that you care."

Indeed, Lorne is too exhausted to care very much about anything at this point and can't even dredge up a witty comeback for the brat so he shrugs indifferently and crosses to the bar, pouring Irish whiskey into a spirit glass, no ice.

"Yo, Green-Dude. You look like shit," Gunn remarks, noting the weariness in the Pylean's eyes. They seem even redder than usual, if that's possible.

Lorne grimaces, sipping at his drink. "Thanks. Gotta love insomnia."

"Insomnia, huh?" Gunn pins him with a shrewd look. "That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that your pretty little bed-buddy is sleeping in his own room now, would it?"

"No. And he's not my bed-buddy," Lorne replies, sounding defensive. "I just have a pounding headache."

"Uh huh. Right." Gunn clearly isn't buying that. He smirks and turns to Wes, the two of them sharing a glance that says they know why Lorne REALLY isn't sleeping.

Frowning, Connor puts down his axe and ventures, "Uh, Gunn, don't move."

"What?" The bald black guy turns around. There is a creature hanging onto the back of his jacket.

"Oh no. There's something on me, isn't there?" Charles Gunn mutters, feeling movement and freezing in fear. "Please don't be a rat. Please don't be a rat."

Slowly moving around behind Gunn, Wesley peers at the hitchhiking animal. "No, it's just a species of _Megachiroptera_."

Gunn gives him a blank stare.

"In other words," the scholarly man explains, "a common bat."

With that Gunn yelps, shucking free his jacket and letting it drop to the ground. He frantically spins around, trying to check his own back. "Is it off? Get it off me!"

"It's off, Gunn," Wesley assures. "Though there's no need to panic. Bats generally don't attack humans."

The critter crawls out from under the jacket. It's about the size of a large mouse. Launching itself into the air with a flap of pink leathery wings it begins flying around and swooping over Gunn's head like a small grey missile, squeaking. Gunn shrieks, ducking and trying to shield his exposed scalp.

"You lied, Wesley! You LIED!"

Blinking at the bat's unusual behaviour, Wes comments, "Well, that's interesting."

"Stay away from me!" Yelling, Gunn runs around in circles, flapping his arms over his head as if he's swatting away moths. "Get away! Get away!"

Smirking at the usually tough man's rather girlish fear, Connor drawls, "What - are you afraid it'll get stuck in your hair?"

"Shut up!" Gunn snaps, protectively covering his shaven dome. "Don't you what bats are? They're rats with wings!"

Nobody notices that Kylar has emerged from his room and is now standing at the top of the stairs in his pyjamas, surveying the kafuffle. Gunn is screeching and flailing about the lobby like a panicking woman while Wesley attempts to catch the winged intruder with a fishing net on a pole, the British man shouting out instructions for Gunn to stand still. Connor is too busy laughing and wiping away tears of mirth to help. As tired as he is, even Lorne can't help letting out a chuckle or two in amusement at the comedic scene. This kinda stuff only happens to them.

"Be quiet!" Kylar suddenly speaks up, his brows furrowed in concern. "You're scaring her."

"Her?" Gunn exclaims, still ducking from the assault. "How do you know it's a girl? I don't see no skirt on it!"

"I can tell. And she's just a baby." Quickly descending the stairs, Kylar orders, "Everyone stop where you are. This instant!"

The surprisingly firm sound of his voice causes Gunn and Wesley to halt in their tracks, Gunn with his hands still clasped over his head. They all stare at Kylar as he raises his hand, his crimson eyes burning with concentration. The demon-boy silently calls to the bat, letting her know that she's in no danger, that he will protect her. Leaving the object of her attack, the creature flies away from Gunn and over to Kylar, landing on his arm and hanging off it with tiny feet, folding up a pair of membranous wings.

"Huh," Gunn mutters in astonishment, standing straight again. "Lookit Harry Potter here."

Lorne is just as astonished as everyone else. He knew Kylar had an empathic bond with animals, because Kylar told him so, but to see in it action is another thing entirely. It's quite remarkable. Like a mother with a child, Kylar is gently petting the bat's soft grey fur, soothing and comforting the frightened nocturnal animal. Using hooked wing-tips, the infant female bat climbs up Kylar's arm and over his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. Gunn's face turns alarmed.

"Watch out! It'll bite you!"

"It's not a vampire bat," Wesley assures the nervous black man. "This species eats fruit and flowers. They're completely harmless."

In a mumble, Gunn retorts, "Well, it's still butt-ugly."

"No, she's not," Kylar murmurs, softly stroking over a tiny mouse-like head, between pointed ears and down over a wide, flat pink nose. "She's beautiful."

Inquisitively coming up to Kylar, Connor peers at the bat, amazed at the way it's responding to the demon teenager, completely trusting him.

"That's what you could do back on Pylea? That's your skill?"

Kylar nods at Connor. "I can get any creature to come to me. And I've never been bitten or attacked. Not once I've connected with them."

Looking impressed, Connor remarks, "Cool."

"Can I keep her, Lorne?" Kylar gazes at his guardian with pleading eyes. "She's an orphan. Her mother left her behind in the cave Gunn and Wesley visited. She doesn't have any family now."

Sighing, Lorne waves his hand at the animal-sympathising youth. "Of course you can. But keep it in your room, okay? I don't want guano all over my expensive suits."

"Thank you." Kylar smiles at Lorne and then gazes fondly at his new pet. "I'm going to call her Fredelia. After Fred and Cordelia."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll just LOVE having a stinking rodent named after them," Gunn grunts.

"Bats aren't rodents, Charles," Wes knowledgably informs his high-school dropout colleague. "In fact, they're more closely related to primates. You may be interested to know that these mammals have very little -"

"Save the zoo lesson," Gunn rudely butts in. "I'm gonna go take a shower and wash off all the bat-germs." He shudders to himself, the dark-skinned man throwing the small creature another wary, disgusted look before running up the stairs to his bathroom.

"Hey, do you think she's hungry?" Connor asks. "We got a fruit bowl in the kitchen."

Smiling as Fredelia begins burrowing into his hair, Kylar agrees, "Yes, I think she is hungry. It's been a while since she was fed."

"After that, can we go back to your room and play with her? Bats are intelligent, right?" Angel's son seems excited. "I bet we could teach her tricks!"

"Indeed, they are very intelligent creatures."

Chattering about the new addition to the group, the two teenage boys cross to the kitchen to cut up fruit and see what Fredelia wants to eat.

"Well, that's enough excitement for me. I'm going back to bed," Lorne declares, feeling the whiskey kicking in and covering his yawning mouth.

Putting away his sword and stakes in the weapons closet, the stubbled Englishman stops to give Lorne a querying look. "You sure you're all right?"

"Nothing a long, uninterrupted sleep won't fix," Lorne breezes, unwilling to share his personal torment with the other man. "Night, Wes."

Wes nods. "See you in the morning, Lorne."

"Better make that lunchtime," the green-skinned demon replies dryly. He glances to Kylar, he and Connor at the kitchen counter, delightedly feeding his baby pet bits of banana and apple.

"Kylar, don't stay up too late. Your tutor is coming at nine-thirty for your first lesson. I don't want you sleeping in and missing it."

"I won't," the horned teen promises, smiling slightly. "I am looking forward to learning how to read and write. I shall be the first in my clan to be able to do so."

"Good boy. Connor, don't you keep him up," Lorne warns the second eighteen year old. "Unlike you, Kylar actually WANTS to study."

"Whatever," is Connor's disinterested reply, too busy watching the bat nibbling on a grape with little sharp teeth.

Still gazing at the other Empath, Kylar says gratefully, "Thank you for allowing me to have a pet, Lorne. I was never allowed to keep one back in my village."

"You're welcome, sweetie," Lorne returns, melting under that gorgeous redcurrant gaze. "But I meant what I said about it staying in your room. I'm not really a pet person."

Kylar gives a nod of understanding. It's not that Lorne hates animals – it's just that his empath abilities are focused in a different area. His skills are different to Kylar's. Just like Lorne could never coax wild creatures into his hand, Kylar could never get up on stage and sing in front of a bunch of strangers and then tell their fortunes.

Lorne starts heading up the lobby stairs. "Goodnight, boys. I gotta get some rest. I have another show on tomorrow."

Connor doesn't reply, or even turn around, but Kylar glances after Lorne longingly. "Good night, Krevlornswath. Sleep well."

Lorne's chest constricts at those softly spoken words. Oh, how he wishes he could curl up in bed with Kylar's slim form beside him. That would surely make him sleep well. But that can't happen. Not anymore. It's not proper. His face saddening, Lorne trudges heavily back up to his own room.

Alone.

"You call him Krevlornswath?" Connor repeats with a smirk.

"Of course. That is his full name." Kylar tilts his head at Connor questioningly. "Did you not know this?"

"Yeah. But it sounds way dorky when you say it out loud."

"What is 'dorky'?"

Connor grins. "Boy, you have a lot to learn about this place, don't you?"

"That is true," Kylar grants, realising that his knowledge about LA and the whole world is sadly lacking. "But you can teach me, can you not?"

"Yeah." Connor's grin widens as he thinks about all the swear words he can teach the innocent kid to say. "I sure can."

…

Every night that Lorne has to play host to a bunch of partying demons across town, Kylar spends it with his bat, and with Connor, the other boy continuing to show him what teenagers do for fun. Kylar reacts pretty much the same as Connor did upon seeing a television for the first time, poking the screen and checking the back of the set until his human companion explains how it all works. Like with the computer, Kylar once again is fascinated by this technology and the two of them hide out for hours in Connor's room, lying on the bed watching DVDs and snacking on junk food; the Pylean developing a fondness for vegetarian nachos and anything with caramel in it because it reminds him of thick amber honey made by the native bees on his homeland. Those bees usually attack and sting anyone who comes close to their hive but Kylar could always charm them into letting him take a chunk of honeycomb without being stung to death. As a bonus, he could make useful and sweet-smelling candles out of the leftover wax. He enjoyed those quiet nights where he could sit in his cave surrounded by warm flickering candlelight of his own making, licking sticky honey off his fingers and watching the mothlings dance and flit about the flames. There are some things he misses about Pylea but those things are few and far between. This world has a lot more to offer and every day Kylar learns and experiences a hundred new sights, sounds, tastes and smells.

With Lorne's permission, Connor takes Kylar outside the hotel on evening excursions to the cinema, the demon teen in human guise with a hoodie and sunglasses on to hide his unusual features. Even with the disguise, he feels vulnerable being amongst such crowds of people and almost expects someone to point at him and yell, "There he is! There's the murderous traitor scum! Get him! Pull out his guts and strew them on the ground!" but of course it does not happen. Apart from Lorne, there are no other Pyleans in this city, just humans of all shapes, sizes and skin colours, paying no attention to him whatsoever, just going about their business. His hands are covered with gloves and his face is such a light shade of green that if anyone notices beneath the shadow of the hooded top he's wearing they might assume he's ill and not a creature from another dimension they've never heard of. Either that or they might think he's an off-duty theme park performer, or so Connor assures him. If anyone notices his strange colouring and horns, Kylar can always pass it all off as being stage makeup.

"Universal Studios," Connor casually instructs him. "Tell them you work at Universal Studios."

Kylar isn't sure what kind of place that is (only that it has something to do with movies and that Connor will take him there one day) but he memorises the alibi anyway, not wanting to have his real identity questioned and discovered.

Once inside the darkened cinema theatre – sitting right at the back - Kylar can stop trying to be inconspicuous, taking the shades off and flipping his hood back to focus on the enthralling spectacle of modern-day motion pictures. Seeing all the action on a gigantic screen right before his eyes – flying, car chases, underwater shots and loud roaring explosions - makes everything seem incredibly lifelike and realistic, scaring the life out of the Pylean and delighting him in equal measures. From films he discovers what comedy is and even if he doesn't get most of the jokes he can still appreciate the visual gags, enjoying most of all when bad guys get their comeuppance. He hasn't quite laughed out loud yet but he's definitely mastered how to grin.

From films Kylar also learns how humans interact, how they talk and express emotion, what they fear and what they desire, finding a lot of the same qualities in himself, particularly the yearning for love and needing to be wanted. When a man and a woman kiss on the screen he can't help thinking of Lorne, wondering if he's ever touched lips with anyone like that. A handsome, charismatic demon such as him must have surely had the opportunity. Kylar hasn't. Besides the fact that nobody ever considered getting that close to him, people don't really do it on Pylea. Not like this anyway, so deeply and emotionally and urgently, as if it's something they have to do, need to do, and have no control over, drawing together like a thirsty Sluk to water. Kylar wonders if it's actually like that, if kissing feels as good as it appears or if it's just performing, just pretending, just skilful acting. The idea of such intimacy is intriguing to him. He knows a little of intimacy as he has been held in Lorne's arms on more than one occasion, however, it never goes any further than that. Lorne is always a perfect gentleman and guardian, his actions nothing more than fatherly and if he ever kisses Kylar, it's always chaste, on the forehead, cheek or the hand. Never on the mouth.

Since he was rejected, Kylar hasn't tried to kiss Lorne again. From watching movies, he gathers the notion that the more dominant partner should initiate the kissing. Since Lorne is older, taller and stronger, that makes him the more dominant one, in Kylar's opinion. Kylar knows he is smaller and weaker, like a female, so he should wait for Lorne to do it. Perhaps that's why he was rejected – he ought to have been passive instead of assertive. It seems that that's how courtship works in this dimension. One must wait to be courted by the man of one's dreams. Well, from now on Kylar will be passive. He is patient. He can wait. And hopefully, one wonderful day, Lorne will come to him and he will be kissed.

Kylar may be inexperienced in the rituals of romantic courtship but he knows what sex is. He regularly saw pigs mating back on Pylea. And once during his daily work routine, he stumbled across the farmer's ugly daughter in a haystack on her knees, with her skirts up to her hips and some muscled warrior thrusting into her from behind and grunting loudly. He heard the vulgar slap of their flesh meeting – her large exposed breasts dangling and wobbling - and caught glimpses of slimy green flesh and coarse brown hairs where the two were joined at the nether regions. Kylar quickly scuttled past before the daughter spotted him and screamed at him to get lost or die. He did not wish to stay and watch, anyway. It was not erotic at all. It was rough, clumsy and animalistic. Honestly, to him they looked no different than the pigs. Thanks to those incidents, and some others, he may have a little knowledge of the act but the first time he sees an R-rated sex scene in a movie theatre it is a highly confronting experience for him. Especially since the images are so big and detailed and right in his face. He can't escape them. He can't walk away. Well, technically he could get up and leave the cinema but that would be disrespectful to Connor, who invited him here as a valued friend, and so for his sake Kylar stays, even though he's subtly squirming in his seat.

The scene is not overly crude or explicit, rather shot artfully and erotically, and people on this world probably think it's very tame but to Kylar it's almost shocking to witness. Though he knows the actors are not really copulating he still flushes down to the roots of his dreadlocks, embarrassed yet unable to look away from all that pale, writhing flesh. Instead of being disgusted or turned off by the sight of naked humans, Kylar is horrified to feel his body responding against his will. Although, he can sense that he is not the only one getting aroused in the cinema so perhaps his empathic side is simply reacting to everyone else's arousal. Perhaps this voyeurism is normal. Connor certainly doesn't appear to be uncomfortable by the sex shown on the screen and Kylar harbours the suspicion that the other teenager may have even experienced it himself at one stage or the other. Kylar is interested to know what it was like for Connor – if it was nice or not - but is far too bashful to ask him about it. At least, not yet. The demon-boy does learn one interesting thing from the scene: that human bodies are not all that dissimilar to those of villagers back on his home world, except the heart seems to be oddly located in the middle of the chest instead of the left buttock, which is where it ought to be.

After the movies, Connor escorts him to game parlours, showing him how to play air hockey across a table, shoot targets on a computer screen with a plastic gun and fight each other with virtual characters controlled by buttons and 'joysticks', all of which are useful for quickening reflexes and immensely entertaining at the same time. Late at night when Lorne gets back from Caritas, Kylar animatedly fills him in about what he and Connor got up to, what interesting and exciting things Angel's son has shown him that day. Lorne is almost jealous that Connor's spending so much time with Kylar but he sees how happy the younger demon is to have a pal his own age and so that makes Lorne happy too. He knows he ought to spend more time with Kylar himself, taking the boy places and showing him things like fathers do with sons, but is loath to do so because the more time he spends with Kylar, the more Lorne is tempted by him. The kid's sweet scent just about makes him crazy. Much as he dotes on the kid, it's best if they keep their distance somewhat.

But Kylar doesn't protest or show any signs of discontent at being left alone for prolonged periods. Although he enjoys company, he is not a clingy type and often can be found on his bed reading a book with his pet bat perched on his shoulder, or in the hotel courtyard picking flowers and communing with garden creatures, relishing the sunshine and being free to do whatever he wishes to. Lorne has often walked outside to have a smoke and caught Kylar sitting on the grass covered in butterflies, legs crossed and eyes closed peacefully as if meditating. However independent and occupied he is, Kylar always seems pleased to see Lorne, no matter how long or short their interactions are. Even if they just pass each other in the corridor, Kylar always takes the time to give his care-taker a shy, sweet smile, one Lorne immediately returns, often accompanied by a fond hair-ruffle or a wink. Lorne wouldn't call it flirting, exactly, just him being his generally affectionate self.

Kylar soon settles into a routine. After breakfast and his daily reading and writing lessons (which he's picking up remarkably quickly), he changes into his gym gear and trains in the lobby until the afternoon, perfecting his sensory skills with Connor, as well as training with the others. Wes teaches him how to handle stakes and crossbows along with some simple magic tricks that can be used in battle for one's own advantage. Angel teaches him sword fighting and martial arts moves - punches, blocks, hits and kicks - while Gunn teaches him about blunt force using axes, clubs and metal pipes, everyone being careful not to injure the peaceful young demon but Kylar takes each accidental blow, scrape or cut and learns from it, remembering what not to do next time. He never complains about the gruelling physical effort required to wield heavy weapons or battle against men bigger and more practised than him, never asks to stop in tiredness or fatigue, and never cries out when he gets hurt, used to a lot more pain than most boys his age would be. Everyone working with him is struck by his dedicated attitude and willingness to better himself, the way he listens and takes on board everything they are teaching him. Kylar's determination and grit earns the admiration of each person in the hotel.

Not least of all Lorne. The older Pylean sits back on the circular sofa with his drinks and watches Kylar grow stronger every day, more confident in his own abilities and what he is capable of. With the right encouragement and positive support he's coming out of his olive-coloured shell, discovering who he can be without all the bullying, fear and struggling to stay alive. Coming to LA has given the boy a freedom he's never known and will never take for granted again. Kylar lives each day to the fullest and pushes himself just as rigorously as he did back on the farm, except he actually wants to do this. The training coupled with the vitamin pills and plenty of good, wholesome food has seen Kylar's skeletal frame fill out in less than six weeks, gaining lean muscle where once there was skin and bone. When he first came here he was all stick-thin arms, prominent ribs, shrunken stomach and gaunt, haunted face, looking like an emaciated refugee from a war camp. Not anymore. He is in a lot better shape now - athletic and healthy, the firm contours of his new body beginning to show underneath the clothes Cordelia and Fred bought him, the shirts and pants fitting properly rather than swamping him as they used to. Even his hair seems to be thicker and shinier, the soft ripples of mulberry gleaming with life and vitality, along with the rest of him. Kylar was pretty before but with glowing skin, newfound masculine strength and self-assurance in his eyes…he's just breathtaking.

"Hey, Lorne-a-licious." Cordelia plonks her fashionable female figure next to Lorne, stroking the sleeve of his peach-coloured shirt with intricate teardrop-shaped patterns all over it. "Loving the paisley. Very sixties chic."

"Thanks, Cor." Lorne smiles at her. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up." Cordy flutters her lashes innocently. "Can't I just sit here with my best and most stylish green friend in the whole world?"

"Not when you could be out shopping," Lorne retorts, sensing a hidden agenda here. "What do you really want? And don't try to fool an Empath, young lady."

Shrugging, Cordelia gives up the pretence. "Okay. I actually wanted to speak to you about my vision."

"What vision?"

"The one I'm having right now."

Lorne sits up straighter in alarm. Even though they no longer cause her intense pain, Cordy's psychic predictions still usually mean that something bad is going to happen.

The brunette puts her fingers on her temples, concentrating. "I can see you…and there's Kylar. And oh! You're kissing."

Lorne jolts in shock. "You're getting a vision of that?"

"Not really." She drops her hands and smiles teasingly. "But I can definitely see you thinking about doing it."

Her smile fades at the disappointed, guilty expression that appears on Lorne's face, his eyes averting awkwardly.

"Except you haven't yet, have you?"

Mumbling into his drink, Lorne replies, "No."

"And why the hell not?"

Avoiding her confrontational stare, Lorne hisses, "I'm his guardian, Cordy! And do we have to talk about this here?"

He sneaks a glance in Kylar's direction but the kid is too busy clanging swords with Angel to notice that he's being talked about, Kylar swinging a sword almost as tall as he is while the vampire instructs him in the finer points of chopping someone's head off.

"He can't hear us. And you're not his father," Cordy reminds Lorne. "It wouldn't be wrong."

"Even so…He's just arrived here after surviving eighteen years of abuse and mistreatment in a nightmarish plane of existence nobody should ever have to live on. He's still adjusting to this world, finding out who he is and what his purpose is here," Lorne argues. "Me hitting on him? I don't think the little cabbage is ready for that."

"Oh, he's more than ready."

"Yeah?" Lorne lifts a challenging brow. "And how do you know, Miss Smarty Britches?"

"I went to high school, remember?" She looks smug. "I know how teenage boys act around someone they have a crush on."

Kylar must have asked Angel how he killed the Drokken, the act that earned him fame back on Pylea, the black-clad nightwalker beaming with manly pride and embellishing his story with lavish sword slices and thrusts. Looking at the worshipful way Kylar is gazing at Angel, the boy's ruby eyes big and impressed at the dramatic tale, Lorne feels a prickle of unpleasant envy.

"Are you sure it's me he's got a crush on?"

"It's not Angel," Cordelia persists. "He's totally crushing on you, Lorne. Has been from the day he got here. He couldn't make it any clearer if it was written on his t-shirt, which, by the way, he looks REALLY great in." Her eyes all but glaze over as she fixates on Kylar's shoulders and arms, flexing smoothly as he pushes sweat-dampened hair back from his face with both hands.

"Hello, muscles…" she muses abstractedly.

Lorne frowns at her, getting all possessive. Nobody should look at Kylar that way but him. Cordelia finally blinks, breaking the trance.

"Anyway, back to the kissing." She gazes expectantly at Lorne. "When's it gonna happen?"

"Probably never." Lorne sighs in hopelessness. "I don't even think I should try."

"You should. You two are perfect for each other. Everyone in this hotel knows it."

"But what if he doesn't want it? What if he rejects me, Cor?"

"He won't, I'm telling you. I mean, he choose a room just down the hall from yours. He wants to be close to you just as much as you do to him. "

Cordelia means well and Lorne realises she's trying to help, bless her big old heart, but she was popular in high school. She had boys chasing after her in droves, wanting to date her, wanting to be with her. She has no idea what it's like to get rejected or how much it hurts.

Lorne knows. He was rejected from the moment he dropped out of his mother's grossly distended belly and landed on his head. She nearly ate him. His family rejected him, his peers rejected him, his whole fucking dimension rejected him and cast him out.

However, he doesn't care about that anymore. He's glad to be out of that filthy hell-hole and he certainly doesn't miss his oafish, simple-minded, ignorant family. He doesn't care what they think of him.

He cares what Kylar thinks, though.

He cares too damn much.

Cordelia nudges him out of his pensive reverie. "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know…" The usually confident demon flounders nervously with the pressure Cordelia is putting him under. "I'm just not sure it's a good idea."

"Well, you better get sure, Lorne, because a yummy catch like that? Not gonna fall out of a portal every day." She indicates to the pretty eighteen year old boy in the lobby. "If you don't snaffle him, someone else will. And then you'll kick yourself forever for missing the chance."

Knowing that she's right, Lorne's shoulders slump. "Stop with the harping, ex-Divine One. I see your point and I'll work on it, all right?"

"Soon?"

Sighing again, Lorne grudgingly agrees, "Okay. I'll try soon. Happy now?"

"Deliriously. I want all the juicy details when it happens." Cordy grins and pats his arm excitedly before getting up. "Good luck."

"Lord, I'm gonna need more than luck," Lorne despairs, gulping down the rest of his scotch on ice as she saunters away, leaving the normally unruffled Empath with frayed nerves and a bellyful of shifting stones.


	6. Piercing

A/N: Finally, I have a new chapter finished! Apologies as usual for the long wait but don't think for one moment that I'm giving up on this fic. I am determined to finish it, no matter how long it takes. I will do it for you guys, because you love it so much and your remarks & reviews make me happy! ^^

Thanks to:

The Happy Monkey of Doom (here's where the drama starts! XD)

Full Moon Child (hope this one excites you too! :P)

Insanitywithaprettyface (thank you so much for your great comments!)

Psychotic Sprite (*gets ready for the squealing*)

Blookulele (see, I haven't left you! Lol)

And lastly the wonderful Minkie Hathaway for giving me the poke I needed to finish this! Sorry for keeping you in suspense and thanks to each and every one of you for still being here *hugs all round*

…

Part 6.

After his chat with Cordelia, Lorne decides to try kissing Kylar. He tries that very night but ultimately chickens out at the last moment, pecking the boy on the side of the face before hurrying off to his room and banging his head against the closed door in disappointed defeat. The same thing happens the next day, and the next day after that. He just can't do it. The more Lorne thinks about it and delays doing it, the worse it gets. His emotions are on edge and he's sexually frustrated in a way he knows is not healthy for him but he feels too guilty to even jerk off in the shower like last time. Because he knows that if he does, he'll be thinking of Kylar, of doing erotic things to him, and in the back of his mind Lorne still believes it to be wrong, to have such impure thoughts about such a pure, young creature. Regardless of what Cordy says, Lorne is over thirty years of age while Kylar is only in his teens, no more than an innocent child, and Lorne doesn't think it's right. He is torn between his significant position of responsibility and the contrasting feelings he has towards the rescued youth in his care.

As Kylar's custodian he shouldn't have those types of feelings, not ones about kissing Kylar's mouth, seeing him naked, or wanting to touch his body. Even though Kylar is not his son, Lorne almost finds his thoughts incestuous. Especially considering everything the boy has been through. The lustful urges he gets make him feel disgusting and depraved but at the same time Lorne can't help the way he feels. He is just drawn to the eighteen year old, in a way he's never been drawn to anyone before. Of course, it's not all sexual but that's a big part of it. He is all too aware that Kylar has been chained, whipped and beaten and Lorne has a strong desire to counteract some of that damage. He wants to show Kylar that not all touches leave scars, that certain types of touching can feel incredibly good and leave a guy moaning for more. He wants so badly to be the one to show Kylar that.

But he shouldn't. He's too old for the kid and in all decency, should just leave him alone.

And what if Cordelia is wrong and Kylar doesn't want to be kissed? Not since the day they painted Kylar's room has the kid attempted to kiss Lorne, or even touch him in any kind of inviting manner. Kylar probably only did that back then because he felt he owed it to Lorne, not because he wanted to. It seems the former slave-boy has finally understood that he doesn't need to do that, to pay Lorne back with sexual favours. It seems he understands that their relationship is purely on a fatherly level and nothing more. They are still close and affectionate but lately, Kylar's shown no interest in kissing Lorne whatsoever and if Lorne tried, Kylar would probably be the one to pull away now. The polite young man would be perfectly respectful about saying no but it would still cut Lorne deeply to be refused, not to mention humiliate the hell out of him. Being rejected by a teenager would make Lorne feel very old and very depressed. It would drive him to drink. Well, drink _more_, anyway.

So, Lorne's best plan to prevent anything untoward happening between them is avoidance. He avoids spending too much private time with Kylar, finding it easier to control his thoughts and impulses when other people are in the room. He tries not to watch the kid when he's training because all that sweat causes Kylar's shirt to stick to his lean body in all the right places and makes Lorne think of other activities that would make the boy equally sweaty and hot, but when the older demon is upstairs and hears clanging swords coming from the lobby, he can't help going down to look anyway, cursing himself for his weakness. At bed time, he wishes Kylar a good night and pecks him on the forehead, cheek or even back of the hand, depending on how much willpower Lorne can dredge up. Sometimes he even just gives Kylar a quick hug instead, trying to keep his lips away from that sweet, soft skin. He ought to completely avoid body contact with the kid altogether but that would be too difficult for a physically demonstrative guy like Lorne and not only that - if Kylar stopped being hugged or given signs of affection the poor child would start to wonder what he did wrong.

Which is nothing, of course. The boy is so perfect, he's like an angel.

Or so Lorne thinks.

If he had any idea what Kylar dreams about when he's in bed, all the intimate, sensual things the eighteen year old would secretly love Lorne to do to him and his body, the older demon would keel over in absolute shock.

But Kylar keeps these erotic dreams to himself, hoping that someday soon they'll come true.

…

One evening, Kylar and Connor are returning from an excursion to the cinema and are walking back to the hotel when they pass by a piercing parlour. Intrigued, the teen demon stops to gaze at the poster in the window that shows rings and studs and many kinds of strange jewellery in various areas of the human anatomy – eyebrows, navels, nipples, noses, lips and cheeks. There are prices next to each one.

"What are these?" Kylar asks, pointing at the exotic exhibit. Connor glances at the poster.

"Body piercings. Don't they do those back on Pylea?"

"No. I have never seen them. What are they for?"

"Different reasons. Decoration mainly, but some have a purpose. People pierce their private areas, boys and girls, to make sex feel better."

Giving a surprised noise, the naïve Pylean looks for pictures of genital jewellery on the poster but Connor chuckles at him.

"They aren't allowed to show those."

"What about these?" Kylar indicates to the eyebrow and lip rings. "What purpose do they serve?"

"Nothing, really." The boy-slayer raises an indifferent shoulder. "They're just for looks."

Kylar is staring at him, needing more information. Sighing, Connor provides it, trying to explain the ritual in a way the uninformed youth would understand.

"Well, people sometimes get pierced on their face or body to show their individuality or independence, or to mark a significant time in their lives. It could be to celebrate a victory, sort of like how I take kill trophies, only much more personal. Some people have only one piercing and some have many, with each one marking an event or telling a story. But mostly people get them because they think it makes them look cool or more attractive."

Individuality, independence, significance, attractiveness. Four very important things to Kylar. He stares at one particular photo, showing a ring though someone's lower lip. The description says it is called a 'labret piercing' and it only costs twenty dollars. Lorne has been giving him pocket money to spend every week so Kylar knows he can afford it.

"I want one," he suddenly announces, putting his hand on the door knob. He pauses when he spies a notice pinned in the window that states that minors must be accompanied by a parent or guardian. His reading skills are quite good now, the daily lessons definitely paying off for him.

"Oh. Am I a minor? Perhaps I should ask Lorne first."

"You don't need his permission – at eighteen you're old enough," Connor assures him. "Plus it's your body. You can do whatever you want with it."

Kylar realises that his blue-eyed friend is right. For two years before he came to this dimension, he felt as though his body belonged to others, particularly to his 'master' who arrogantly believed he owned Kylar and could do whatever he wished to him, such as chain Kylar up, force him to work and whip him until he bled. Now that the farmer is dead, nobody owns Kylarkmar anymore. He's free and doing this is one way to prove it. It's a way to reclaim his own body back.

"I want one," he firmly repeats, starting to push the parlour door open. Connor stops him.

"You can't go in there. It's a human piercing parlour. They'll take one look at your face and horns and start screaming. Come on. I know a place where they do demons."

The streetwise teenager leads Kylar down a few more blocks into a less-brightly lit area of the city, also known in underground circles as 'Demon Town'. Normally, Connor comes here to hunt but tonight it's his evening off. When the two boys enter the premises, an orange-skinned girl at the counter with lizard-like ridges on her forehead and cheekbones looks up from filing her pointed nails. She jolts as she recognises Connor, The Destroyer, slayer of vampires and be-header of demons, starting to scream very loudly for help.

Startled, Kylar draws closer to Connor, whispering in confusion, "I thought you said they would scream at me?"

"Don't worry about it. I get this a lot." Connor sighs, his reputation preceding him once again.

Hearing the screaming, an older female with waist-length braids comes out from the back room where they do the piercings. She looks like a normal black woman except her eyes are yellow and she has a tail. On the end of that tail is a very sharp spike, like a stingray, and she's holding it up threateningly above her head.

"Why are you here, Hunter? I've never done anything bad to anybody!" Her voice is angry and demanding. "I'm just trying to make a living like everyone else. If you think you can trash my store and murder my employees, you got another thing coming! I don't care whose son you are – I'm not gonna take this shit from a kid!"

"Calm down, all right? I'm not going to kill anyone. Geez." Exasperated, Connor shows his hands, letting her know there are no weapons in them. "My friend is just after a piercing. That's all."

The woman flicks her yellow-eyed gaze towards Kylar, realising he's a demon too and that Connor hasn't killed him. In fact, the petite green boy seems to be clinging to Connor for protection. She relaxes, letting her barbed tail lower.

"Stop your yelling, Shannika," she orders the hysterical girl behind the counter. "We got customers."

The girl shuts up, sits down and sulkily starts to file her nails again, but she keeps giving Connor mistrustful looks from under the scaly ridges of her brows.

"So, whatcha want, honey?" The owner of the business asks Kylar, speaking much kinder to him because he's one of her own. "Where do you want me to stick a ring in you?"

"Here," Kylar shyly answers, pointing to just under his bottom lip. "I would like one here, please."

She appraises him with a slight frown, eventually taking Connor aside for a quiet chat.

"Are you sure your little boyfriend can handle this? It's gonna be painful and he looks kind of delicate."

"He's not my boyfriend," Connor replies in annoyance. "And yeah, he can handle it. He's a lot tougher than he looks."

The woman still seems sceptical, her tail twitching back and forth, but she finally agrees to the procedure. "If you say so. Right this way, honey. Through here."

She leads Kylar into the private back room, showing him to a reclining seat. Connor follows.

"I'm coming too."

"What, you don't trust me?" she drawls, turning to give the slayer an amused look.

"Not really," Connor states with blunt honesty. "If you hurt him any more than necessary, I'll have to hurt you too."

The demon lady arches a brow at his protectiveness over Kylar. "Not your boyfriend, huh?"

"He's not!"

"It is true – we do not mate with each other," Kylar helpfully provides. "In fact, the only time he's been attracted to me like that was when he thought I was a girl, the first time he saw me."

"Kylar!" Connor exclaims in disbelief, spots of colour appearing on his cheeks. The woman laughs.

"Look, whatever's going on between you boys, or not, I don't wanna know, okay?" As she swabs Kylar's lip with medical alcohol, she adds, "But you sure are a pretty kid, honey."

She lets him choose his own jewellery (he can have a stud or a ring) and he picks a gold circular one with a small ball in the middle, called a captive bead ring. Before it goes in, Connor asks Kylar if he's absolutely sure this is what he wants and Kylar insists that yes, he is sure. Angel's son is hovering watchfully beside the recliner, ready to yank the green-skinned teen out of there the moment he decides he can't go through with it but Kylar is determined to do this, the former slave child mentally preparing himself for the symbolic ceremony of his freedom. His dark red nails dig into the armrests of the chair when the female demon clamps his lip and pushes the needle through his soft flesh with gloved fingers but otherwise the boy shows no signs of pain. He doesn't even make a sound. The qualified and experienced piercer is very fast and efficient, making sure she doesn't hit his inferior labial artery. Quickly, she inserts the golden ring and fastens it, wiping away a trickle of blood from Kylar's chin.

"There. All done. It looks great." She shows Kylar the result in a hand mirror, letting him admire his gleaming new lip-jewellery for a few moments before sticking on a round Band-aid and covering it up. "Keep the Band-aid on until it stops bleeding and then spray the area three times a day with this. Make sure you keep it clean."

The tailed lady gives him a small pump-action bottle of antiseptic. She looks questioningly to Connor.

"You want something done, Hunter? On the house."

Squinting suspiciously at her, the auburn-haired teen speculates, "You just want to make me bleed, don't you?"

She grins, showing demon-fang. "A little bit, yeah."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. Piercings aren't really my thing."

"Suit yourself. That'll be twenty bucks." She gazes between Connor and his cute little pal. "Who's paying?"

"I am. I have pocket money," Kylar announces importantly, fishing it out and handing it to her. She smiles at him, much nicer than she did to Connor.

"Good for you, honey. Have a nice night."

"Thank you very much," the demon teen says gratefully, taking Connor's assistance to get out of the reclining chair. The two young men leave the piercing studio, the counter-girl glaring at Connor for scaring her and getting her into trouble. Connor ignores her.

Outside on the street, Kylar touches his bottom lip, feeling over the Band-aid that covers it. Though he can taste blood in his mouth, it's not overly sore.

"You okay?" Connor inquires in concern.

"Oh, yes. I hardly even felt it. It feels funny when I talk, though." The metal ring clicks against Kylar's front teeth as he speaks. That will take some getting used to. But he is very proud of himself. This is the first time he's ever done something that he wanted to do on the spur of the moment, something special just for him, just because he can.

As they're walking along the city streets towards home, Kylar glances inquisitively at his more knowledgeable companion. "Do you think I made the right choice of jewellery? Do you think it will look okay on me?"

"Looks awesome." Connor nods approvingly. "Gold is a good colour for you."

"Does it make me more attractive?"

The vampire slayer shrugs in embarrassment at Kylar's straightforward query. "I suppose. But you probably shouldn't go around telling people what I think of you. I'm supposed to be a kick-ass killer. Stuff like that makes me look a bit weak."

"I do apologise," Kylar immediately offers, regretting his unthinking comments. "I am still learning how to socialise with others on this dimension. Sometimes I just speak words honestly without considering them first, as was done on Pylea."

"Yeah. Noticed that."

Kylar's brow is crinkled with anxiety. "I respect you greatly, Connor, and I did not mean to offend you in any way. I am sorry if I did."

"Nah, it's cool. I know what you meant." Connor gives another shrug, this one casual and unconcerned. "Besides, if that demon chick tells anyone what you said, I'll just go back and kill her."

At the horrified look he receives, Connor breaks out into a grin. "Kidding, dude. I guess you're still learning about jokes too, huh?" He bumps Kylar's shoulder with his in a playful manner.

Smiling with relief, Kylar ducks his head and stuffs his hands into his pockets like Connor is doing, glad he has such an accepting friend and teacher of the ways of this world.

By the time they arrive back at the hotel, Kylar's piercing has stopped bleeding and so with Connor's help they pause on the front steps to peel the Band-aid off. As they walk through the doors, Lorne is downstairs mixing himself up a fresh drink. He instantly ntotices the golden lip-jewellery shining in the lobby lighting, almost dropping his cocktail shaker on the floor.

"What the hell is THAT?" He comes marching over, finger pointed.

"It's called a labret piercing," Kylar volunteers, proud of his new facial decoration.

Lorne, however, isn't so thrilled about it, instantly swinging to Connor, assuming it was his idea.

"Did you coerce Kylar into getting this…this thing?" he demands, gesturing incredulously to the ring.

"No, actually. I didn't," Connor snaps back, taking immediate offence to the accusation. "Did you ever think that maybe Kylar has a mind of his own?"

"Oh, like you didn't encourage him. I know how you work, you little punk." Lorne glares at the troublesome teen. "You enjoy pissing people off. Especially me!"

"I didn't do anything!" Connor is seriously starting to get pissed off. "Why do I get blamed for all the shit that happens around here?"

"Because it usually IS your fault. Ever since you dropped out of that portal in the ceiling, you've been nothing but a pain in my ass!" Lorne blazes, his red eyes burning like the fires of hell. "I wish you'd just stayed in Qor'toth where you belonged!"

"Well, I wish I'd killed you the first day I got here," Connor hisses, itching to cut Lorne's throat right now but he can't, not in front of Kylar. If he did that, Kylar would never forgive him. Instead, Connor clenches his fists, steps up and fearlessly gets right in Lorne's face, the young hunter's icy blue gaze cold and dangerous, silently threatening Lorne that one day, his luck will be over and he will be a decapitated demon.

"I hate you. I hope you drop dead, you ugly green piece of trash."

After that growled insult, Connor stomps across the hotel foyer and up the stairs.

"I hate you too, you feral little prick!" Lorne roars at the boy's back as it disappears down the hallway. "Yeah, go and sulk in your room like usual. That's real mature, Connor!"

The only reply is a viciously slammed door from upstairs.

"Fucking kids," Lorne mutters, turning back to Kylar and fixing him with a furious scowl. "And you, young man… I thought you had more sense than this, Kylarkmar. Why'd you let Connor talk you into doing something so ridiculous?"

"He didn't. I wanted to," the smaller male starts to protest but Lorne cuts him off.

"No matter whose idea it was, I am your guardian and you should have gotten my permission first!"

"But I am eighteen," Kylar points out in bewilderment. "The sign said I only needed permission of a parent of guardian if I was below that age."

"Even so, you still should have consulted me before going ahead and poking holes in your face! I would have told you it's a stupid idea. It looks terrible! What were you thinking?"

Kylar is distressed by Lorne's enraged expression, not wanting the other male to be angry with him for any reason. It's upsetting to Kylar, knowing that he's displeased Lorne with his impulsive actions, especially when he thought he was doing something empowering for himself.

"Forgive me. I shall take it out this instant," Kylar humbly concedes, bowing his head and reaching up to remove the ring. He seems chastised, defeated and submissively subservient. The older Empath can sense Kylar's spirit dimming, as it would have been when he was in chains, and Lorne's anger vanishes like smoke, aghast and appalled that he's made the beautiful, freed boy feel like a worthless slave again.

"Wait. Don't." Lorne stops Kylar with a light grip to the wrist, feeling horrendously guilty for his over-the-top, ranting outburst.

"I'm sorry for yelling, sweetness," he apologises. "I'm not really angry at you. I was just shocked. I never expected you to do something like this, that's all."

"I can undo it," the youth whispers miserably, his gaze cast down.

"No. I'm not your master. I would never force to you to do anything you really don't want to. Look at me, Kylar." Lorne gazes intently into the boy's troubled eyes. "Forget about what I think. This lip-ring…do YOU like it?"

Kylar nods hesitantly. "Yes. I do."

"And you chose to get it for yourself? For your own personal reasons?"

"I did."

"Then that's all that matters." Lorne sighs, giving in and letting the kid be a rebellious teenager. It was bound to happen sooner or later anyway.

Kylar's face instantly brightens. "I am allowed to keep it?"

"I suppose. At least it isn't a damn tattoo." With reluctant curiosity, Lorne cups the boy's chin in his hand, lifting Kylar's face up and having another close look at the piercing, at the way the shiny gold circle fits perfectly over the lush burgundy swell of the teen's bottom lip, highlighting one of his most alluring features.

"I guess it doesn't look THAT bad," Lorne half-heartedly admits, realising that it's only jewellery, after all, and if Kylar ever changes his mind, he can easily take it out without leaving much of a scar. Compared to the other scars he's got, a little hole would be nothing.

"Keep it. Just make sure it doesn't get infected, all right?"

"Oh, thank you, Lorne," Kylar gushes, throwing a pair of slim arms around his generous caretaker and squeezing in gratitude, smiling happily against Lorne's chest. "You are very good to me. I am so happy to have you as my guardian."

"Yeah, yeah," Lorne mumbles, knowing that the brat has him wrapped around his little finger and could probably get away with anything now, just by being adorable like this. He awkwardly pats Kylar on the back and draws back out of those hugging arms before he gets too excited by the teenager's warm, supple body pressing up against his.

"Now, off to bed, please," Lorne instructs in a kind but firm tone. "You've got lessons in the morning and you need your sleep."

That's an order Kylar doesn't mind following. Because when he sleeps, he dreams.

And when he dreams, it's always about one thing.

Lorne.

…

The next afternoon, Kylar and Connor are in Connor's room, watching an action movie. Kylar is not really concentrating on it; too busy pondering other things. Connor has already apologised for the nasty squabble between him and Lorne yesterday, assuring Kylar that they fought like that all the time and not to take anything they say too seriously. They're not really going to kill each other. But that's not what the demon boy is thinking about.

"Connor, you have experienced kissing before, have you not?"

Turning to the curious olive-skinned male, Connor answers with a small shrug, "Sure. Lots of times."

"What's it like?"

"Why, hasn't anyone kissed you yet?"

"No," Kylar admits, sighing.

"Seriously? With you looking like that?"

Kylar gives a puzzled look at Connor's incredulous gesture. "Like what?"

"You know." The other eighteen year old squirms, his face heating a little. "Pretty."

"Thank you. But on my home dimension, I wasn't considered so." More concerned with talking about Connor, the long-haired Pylean inquires, "Who have you kissed?"

Sensing this conversation might go on for a while, Connor hits the pause button on the remote control and the movie freezes on the television screen.

"Well," he begins, settling into his bean bag and glancing upwards in remembrance. "There was this girl Sunny. She was my first. She was nice but she had a drug problem. My second turned out to be a prostitute. You know what a prostitute is, right?"

Kylar nods. They are women who sell their bodies. He has seen them on the streets here at night, scantily-dressed ladies with soft hands and hard eyes. He saw them back on Pylea too. It is one thing the two dimensions have in common.

"Watch out for them. If a girl offers you a 'reward', don't take it. She's just after money," Connor advises sardonically. "After I learned that lesson, I started seeing an older woman but it didn't work out. Then I had a girlfriend called Tracy but I found out the whole relationship was a lie and wasn't even real."

Astounded, Kylar exclaims, "You have kissed a lot of people!"

With a snort, Connor answers, "Not really. In this city people kiss someone new every day."

"They do?"

"Well, not _everyone_," Connor amends, wishing Kylar wouldn't take everything he hears so literally. "Some people wait until they find a person that they really like being with. And once they're with that person, they don't kiss anyone else but them."

The LA teen softens his voice.

"Like me and this guy I know. His name's Sebastian. I've been dating him for a while now."

Kylar gasps in surprise. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah. He's gay. You remember what I told you about gay people?"

Nodding, Kylar remembers quite well. Connor said that some individuals of the same sex are attracted to each other and that they mate together. That makes them gay. But if they are also attracted to and mate with the opposite sex as well, that makes them bi. If they only mate male to female, that makes them straight. Connor said there were other categories of sexuality too, much more complicated ones, but those three were the most common. Kylar has a feeling that he himself could be gay but he's not really sure. The only person he's ever been attracted to is Lorne. However, if Connor has a boyfriend, he definitely fits into the bisexual category. Kylar has seen the vampire hunter gazing interestedly at girls on the streets and occasionally looking the same way at young men too.

"But you can't tell my dad, all right? Angel doesn't know. He'd probably freak out. Seb's a lot older than I am."

As is Lorne, Kylar muses to himself. Perhaps that is why the older Pylean keeps his distance. Perhaps it is frowned upon to be with someone whose age differs greatly from one's own.

"Here," Connor says, reaching under his mattress and pulling out a magazine, flipping to one of the middle pages. "This is Sebastian. He's a model. He wears other people's clothes and has his photo taken a lot. He's kinda famous in the fashion industry."

Gazing at the man in the glossy picture with long curly black hair and sultry green eyes, Kylar breathes, "He is extremely handsome!"

"I know, right?" The slayer boy grins. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell he sees in me. I guess he was impressed when I staked a vampire in front of him and saved his life. He's awesome because he knows what I do and what I am and he doesn't even care. He still wants to be with me anyway. Some nights I don't actually go hunting. I go to visit Sebastian."

"And you kiss him?"

Smirking, Connor replies, "We do a lot more than that."

"Oh." Quite interested in the subject, Kylar enquires, "Is it nice? Mating…I mean, having sexual intercourse?"

Connor laughs. "Of course. Why do you think people do it so much?"

"Surely it can't be nice all the time." Kylar frowns, thinking of occasions when he saw human slave girls being taken against their will by brutish Pylean warriors. The girls didn't look like they enjoyed it at all.

"I guess it can occasionally suck," the second teenager concedes. "If someone is too rough, too quick, too demanding or too inconsiderate. Or if you're with somebody you're not attracted to. Sometimes it doesn't feel good. But if you're with someone you really like and who treats you well, it can be the most amazing thing ever."

He glances at the inexperienced demon-youth, cautioning, "But if I were you, Kylar, I'd start with kissing first."

"I would very much like to do that one day," Kylar confesses, fidgeting with his dreadlocks. "Connor, do you think…perhaps…Krevlornswath might be interested in…in kissing me?

"Lorne? You like him?" Connor sounds both appalled and astonished. "Romantically?"

Blushing prettily, Kylar nods, avoiding Connor's blue stare.

"Wow. I didn't know you felt that way about him." The auburn-haired boy can't help wrinkling his nose. "I thought he was supposed to be like your dad, or something."

"Lorne is nothing like my father," the horned teenager states quietly. "My father used to scorn me and belittle me. He would strike me across the face if I was ever in his way. He would curse the Powers That Be for burdening him with such a useless, ugly boy-child and would sometimes kick me or spit in my hair."

Seeing red at this degrading treatment, Connor grits out, "Want me to go back over there and cut his head off for you?"

Smiling, Kylar glances back up at his protective friend. "I appreciate your offer, Connor. However, I do not wish vengeance upon him or the rest of my clan. They are simply ignorant and did not know any better. I am happy now that I am here and now that I am under Lorne's guardianship."

"But you'd be happier if Lorne was more than just your guardian?"

"Yes." Nervously, Kylar presses, "Do you think it could happen?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Connor eventually says, "Well, uh…I'm not really the best person to speak to about this. Lorne and I aren't exactly buddies, as you've seen."

"But you've known him longer than I have on this world. Am I the type he would kiss? Is he gay or bi?"

Letting out an awkward breath, Connor rubs the back of his neck. "Probably. I know he likes boys."

"Boys? What boys?"

At Kylar's dismayed, crestfallen expression, Connor hurriedly placates, "Not that I've seen him looking at any lately. Since you've shown up, he's only been looking at you."

Appearing hopeful again, Kylar repeats, "He looks at me?"

"Everybody looks at you, dude. Kinda hard not to," Connor confesses reluctantly, also talking about himself here. "If you asked anyone to kiss you, they totally would."

"I don't want to ask Lorne that!" Kylar's big ruby eyes fill with fear. "What if he says no?"

"Doubt it. Nobody would say no to you," Connor mutters, feeing inappropriately attracted to Kylar at that moment and unable to stop staring at his new lip-ring. Suddenly, he understands the main reason why Kylar chose to put his piercing there. To get Lorne to look at it, and therefore at Kylar's lips. Clever tactic. Well, Connor can't speak for the older demon but it's damn sure working on him.

"But Connor…I am afraid that if I ask, I will somehow ruin our relationship. The closeness I have with Lorne right now is wonderful and I greatly enjoy every minute I spend with him, however…I can't help wanting more." Kylar's voice drops to a fretful whisper. "Is it selfish of me to feel that way? Should I just be content with what I do have?"

Connor stares at the other boy's face, comprehension slowly filling him. "No. You're not selfish. You just want what everybody wants."

"What is that?"

"Love." Eye-rolling, Connor shakes his head, fine auburn hair brushing across his shoulders. "God, I'm an idiot. I should've noticed earlier. You came all the way to this dimension for Lorne, didn't you? You could have gone anywhere else, to a hundred other dimensions or a thousand other cities, but you chose LA because Lorne is here. Am I right?"

"Yes, that is true," Kylar whispers with a slight blush. "I would have followed him to any world he lived in."

"Because you're in love with him."

Kylar nods, his blush deepening greenly. This is the first time he's told anyone about his feelings for Lorne. Cordelia knows, but it's only because she was in his head when she cleansed his aura and she saw it for herself. But Kylar trusts her not to say anything. He also trusts Connor and trusting people is something very new and special to Kylar. Quite simply, he's never had that opportunity before. He senses that Connor will not betray his trust and that is why he speaks so freely in front of the human youth.

"Connor, do you believe that Lorne wants love too? Do you think he wants me in that way?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Connor frowns. "You're psychic. Can't you just read his mind?"

"No. I cannot. He shields it from me."

"Ah. Then he definitely likes you."

"Are you sure? How can you be certain that it's not just me?"

Connor sighs, both honoured that Kylar would share such personal thoughts with him and yet exasperated by the empathic boy's utter lack of intuition in regards to his own love-life.

"Listen, as much as the guy bugs me, I know Lorne gets lonely sometimes. And I know he cares about you. A lot. You're both Empath demons. It makes sense that you'd want to be together as a couple."

Confused, Kylar queries, "If he wants to be with me then why has he not said anything? Or done anything? Why does he keep me at arm's length?"

"He's probably worried about your age difference. That could be why he hides his thoughts from you. Show him it doesn't matter." Connor lifts a nonchalant shoulder. "If you're after a kiss, just go get one."

"But shouldn't I wait for him? Isn't that the proper way on this dimension? Shouldn't the man initiate the kiss?"

"Who says?" Connor tosses back. "It's a free world. You can make the first move if you want. Sometimes, you have to do that or you never find out how somebody feels about you. Life's too short to sit around waiting."

Gazing into space, Kylar is quiet for a while, distractedly sucking on the gold circle through his pillowy plum-coloured lower lip, tasting a very faint tang of blood from the still-fresh wound. His lip is swollen and sore at the moment but he is a fast healer and he been using the antiseptic spray as directed so he expects it to be much better in a day or two. He blinks his long black lashes ponderingly, wondering what he should do about Lorne, if anything at all. Eventually, he looks back over to Connor, smiling gratefully at his knowledgeable companion, the sheer beauty of Kylar's smile causing Connor's heart to skip a beat.

"I shall think about all you have said. Thank you for your wise advice, Connor. You are a very good friend."

"No problem," the vampire slayer curtly replies, indicating to the TV. "Can we finish watching the movie now?"

The two teens watch the rest of the film in silence, except for the crunching of snacks and rustling of candy bar wrappers and crisp packets. It seems as though Connor has forgotten their conversation already but Kylar hasn't, lost in his own thoughts and barely noticing what's happening on screen.

When it's over, Connor gets up and stretches, cracking the kinks out of his back and neck. "Gotta hunt tonight. Wanna come?"

"Oh, I…What are you hunting?"

"Vampires. They're easy to kill. Stakes slide right through them like butter. You should have no trouble with it."

Connor eyes the other boy off, noting the expression of apprehension appearing on his face. "You don't have to come, Kylar. Only if you feel ready for it. But if you think you need a bit more training, that's cool too."

Kylar is secretly glad to be let off the hook. He already knows the technique to stake a vampire, and after all the practice sessions with Angel and the others, he is sure he could do it, but deep down he doesn't really want to kill anybody again, even if vampires are soulless and evil.

"Thank you for thinking of me but Lorne is leaving soon. I am going to ask if I can go with him."

"To that karaoke club?" Connor remarks with a grimace, thinking of all the disgusting demons in there, made even more disgusting when they get slobbering drunk and wail out dorky old songs from the seventies. "It's a bit of a dive."

Kylar pulls a frown. "I don't know what that means."

Connor snorts, turning around to gather his hunting supplies. "You'll see. He probably won't let you go, though."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Lorne is super-smothery where you are concerned. It's like he panics every time you step outside. The only reason he's let you go out at all so far is because you've been with me, and even then he threatens to bust my balls if I don't keep you safe," Connor dryly informs his naïve friend. "Asking him to take you to a sleazy nightclub? Good luck with that."

"I have to try," Kylar insists, already heading toward the door. "As you said, life's too short."

Watching him go, Connor gives a disbelieving shake of his head, still reeling over the fact that a pretty little thing like Kylar wants to get horny with an old dude like Lorne.

"Gross," he mutters, strapping a hunting knife to his ankle and trying not to think about how demons mate with each other and whether they actually use their horns or not.

….

In Lorne's bedroom, Kylar perches on the edge of the bed, observing his care-giver as he stands in front of a full-length mirror, artfully fixing a silver satin cravat around the base of his throat, beneath a lavender shirt. A grey jacket hangs on the back of a chair nearby and Lorne's hair has been styled so the spiked blond tips on the top catch the light, the sides brushed back neatly, leaving two short sideburns. The colour purple, Kylar notes, whether it's pale or dark, looks amazing next to Lorne's richly-patterned green skin.

"You look very nice," Kylar shyly compliments him. "The colour of your shirt-garment greatly suits your complexion."

"Why, thank you, doll-face. You sure know how to make a man's night." Lorne grins, adjusting his collar. "Don't flatter me too much, though. I might get used to it."

Now that he's warmed Lorne up a little bit, the younger Pylean dares to ask what he came here for. "Lorne…may I come with you tonight? To the club?"

Despite the flattery, Lorne's senses immediately start chiming warning bells but he conceals his unease, pretending to still be preening in the mirror. "I don't think that's a good idea, apple-crumble," he replies smoothly and sympathetically. "You'd hate it. I'd be too busy working to spend any time with you, anyway."

"But I won't get in your way. I'd sit somewhere quietly. I would just like to hear you sing. I love listening to your voice."

"That's awfully kind of you to say, sweetie, but my club is no place for a nice kid like you. Most of my clients are…"

Vicious brutes who'd tear Kylar apart from the inside if they got half a chance?

"A little rough around the edges, shall we say?"

"I do not mind," Kylar insists. "I lived on Pylea for eighteen winters, remember? I am familiar with rough characters and vulgar talk. I shall just ignore it."

Yeah, but nobody will ignore you, Kylar, Lorne thinks to himself in dread.

On Pylea, nobody wanted puny, peculiar Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan but they will here. One look at the gorgeous teenager with his slim figure, rippling violet-red hair, and plump black-cherry lips (now complete with gold attention-drawing ring) and all the demons in Caritas will go crazy over him. It'd be like throwing a piece of meat into a den full of starving lions. They wouldn't be able to actually hurt Kylar due to the anti-violence spell Lorne has enforced inside his establishment but that won't stop anyone from making lewd comments and leering at the boy like creepy paedophiles with spines and tails. Comments and stares aside, Kylar would be relatively safe from harm in the club but the moment the kid stepped outside, somebody would snatch him away and Lorne would never see him alive again. Even with the boy's new fighting skills, he's still relatively small and most species of demons are rather large and ferocious. They'd simply gang up and overpower him. The thought of sweet, innocent Kylarkmar being raped, killed and possibly even eaten by a pack of inhuman beasts fills Lorne with the same sick, dizzying feeling he got when he first saw the whip-scars on Kylar's back.

Grimacing, Lorne turns away from the mirror and takes a gulp of his drink so Kylar can't see his face.

Oblivious to Lorne's fear, Kylar asks again, "Will you take me with you? Please?"

Lorne firmly shakes his head. "No. I don't want you going there. Ever."

The hardness in his voice confuses Kylar – Lorne can sense it – but he doesn't want to explain the reasons behind his strict rule. He doesn't want to freak the kid out or scare him unnecessarily. Sighing, he turns back around, giving a half-true explanation that the boy will accept.

"Listen, Kylar. You know that portal in my club? The one you fell out of? Well, it can be unstable. Sometimes it can open up without warning and I don't want you anywhere near it when it does. You could get sucked back into Pylea," Lorne emphasises. "You don't want to end up back there again, do you? Back in slavery?"

Looking alarmed, Kylar blurts, "By the Powers That Be, no! No, I do not."

"Then, please, just hang out here and wait for me, Toostie Roll. I'll spend time with you when I get back. I'll even sing for you, if you like."

Hope sparkles in Kylar's eyes like rubies in the sun. "Would you?"

"Of course. Any song you want." Stepping closer, Lorne smooths his palms over the boy's long wavy hair, his face sombre. "Just swear to me that you'll stay away from that place, all right?"

Kylar nods, understanding why he's not allowed to go but sensing that Lorne isn't telling him the whole story, for some reason. It can't all be about the portal. It's like he's holding something back. Something else…However, Lorne is his caretaker and Kylar must listen to him and comply with what rules he is given.

"All right. I swear," he answers, his lips twitching up into a reassuring smile, looking forward to hearing Lorne's singing later. "I will remain here and wait for you to return."

"That's a good boy." With a semi-serious warning look, Lorne adds, "And don't pierce anything else while I'm gone or I will kick your pretty little butt from here to the highway and back."

Biting the side of his lip, Kylar solemnly mumbles, "No more piercings. I promise."

"Great." Lorne makes a shooing motion. "Now, skedaddle. I'll see you later."

While Lorne fusses with his hair again and adds the finishing touches to his stage outfit, Kylar goes to his own room, pets a chirping Fredelia and opens up a book, settling on the bed with his beloved bat on his shoulder and a few quiet hours to waste until his guardian gets back from musical fortune-telling and sings Kylar his own special song.

As he's draining the last of a muddled lime, rum and mint Mojito before the taxi arrives to take him to Caritas, Lorne sees Connor going past his room, the wiry brunette teen heading down the hallway to go on another nightly hunt.

"Hey, Connor, wait," Lorne calls out, setting down his glass tumbler. "I want to talk to you."

"What?" Irritably pausing at the top of the lobby stairs, Angel's hot-heated son turns around with a scowl at Lorne's approach. "I didn't force Kylar to get his lip pierced. I already told you that. So you can save the lecture because I don't fucking need it."

"Don't give me that attitude, you little…" Lorne stops to take a breath, finding it difficult to speak to Connor without calling him names. "All I wanted to say was…you know…thanks."

Connor stares at him, not expecting that.

"I realise you've been spending a lot of time with Kylar lately. And that's okay," Lorne quickly assures the feisty eighteen year old, not needing to start another fight. "Kylar's never had someone his own age to hang out with before and it's doing him a world of good."

A confused Connor continues staring, obviously wondering what all the shouting was about the previous day.

"I know I overreacted yesterday when you guys walked in but in spite of your trip to the piercing parlour, I can see what a positive influence you're having on Kylar. You're teaching him how to have fun, how to socialise, how to trust people. Not only that but you're teaching him how to be independent and how to make his own choices and after being a slave for so long, he totally needs that," the older demon emphasises, letting Connor see how sincerely thankful he is. "I just want to tell you that I really appreciate everything you've done for him, okay?"

"Um. Okay," Connor answers uncertainly, not used to Lorne being so nice to him. "So, you're not still mad about the lip-ring?"

Lorne sighs and shakes his head, accepting that it was Kylar's decision. He softens towards the young demon hunter, letting the past stay in the past. "Look, Connor, I know we've never gotten along since you returned from that hell dimension and threatened to kill me but if Kylar likes you, then I guess you're not entirely evil. I'm willing to make peace with us right now if you are. What do you say, kiddo? Truce?"

"I suppose." Connor shrugs. "I'm getting kinda tired of arguing with you anyway."

"Yeah. Me too." Lorne gives another sigh, this one more wistful. "You know, you really were a cute baby. You adored me back then and I doted on you as well. I fed you, burped you, changed you. I didn't even mind when you puked on my suits. I thought of you as my own nephew and when you were taken, I missed your chubby little face like you wouldn't believe. But when you came back from Qor'toth all grown up, looking like Peter Pan gone bad…that close bond we used to have was gone. You didn't even remember me. You just glared at me and called me a filthy demon."

Lorne frowns at the memory. "That hurt, Connor. That really hurt. And every time you insult me or my skin colour, it hurts even more. I can't help being green – it's the way I was born. Just like Gunn was born black. But you wouldn't insult him the way you do to me, would you?"

Realising how much of a racist dick he's been, Connor looks down in shame. "Sorry."

The tolerant Pylean graciously waves away the apology. "Ah, it's not your fault. It's the way you were raised. Eighteen years of brainwashing by a revenge-obsessed kidnapper would be enough to screw anybody up."

"Yeah, but it's no excuse. I know I shouldn't call you those things. And I won't anymore."

Lorne nods. "Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

"But I won't call you Uncle Lorne either." A rueful half-smile tugs at Connor's mouth. "That's just not gonna happen, even if you did change my diapers."

"I can live with that," Lorne accepts, smiling back. "I meant what I said about you being there for Kylar…it means a lot to me. And him. He loves hanging out with you."

"It's not like it's a chore," Connor replies, shrugging. "He's a cool guy. But he loves hanging out with you more, though."

Lorne's ears perk. "Did Kylar say that?"

"Among other things. He hasn't learnt what 'too much information' is yet." Connor winces. "Listening to him go on about wanting to kiss you…Talk about awkward."

Eyes going comically round, Lorne stutters, "Are you…are you joking? Because if you are, Connor, that's not funny."

"Wish I was. You better do it soon because I'd rather jam a pencil in my ear than hear that again," the vampire slayer recommends dryly, walking away and leaving Lorne in a state of disbelief.

That's makes two people who've pointed out the kissing issue, or lack thereof, between him and Kylar. Maybe Lorne should listen to the not-so-subtle advice. The older demon knows deep down that the real reason why he hasn't done anything before is not because of Kylar's age, but because he is afraid of rejection, as any normal man would be faced with baring his soul to the person they are secretly in love with. Having his heart pulped like a like a mango in a blender is not something Lorne particularly wants to experience in this lifetime but that's the risk he has to take in order to find out if he's wishfully dreaming or if he actually has a chance with Kylar. Someone as unearthly beautiful and youthful as Kylarkmar would normally be so far out of Lorne's league but Cordelia and now Connor insist that the eighteen year old Pylean feels the same way as Lorne does. Sometimes Lorne feels that Kylar is attracted to him and other times he thinks he's imagining it and that the kid only looks up to him like a mentor, guide and teacher. Like a father.

Sometimes, he even believes that Kylar has a thing for Angel but Cordy said that wasn't so. You'd think with Lorne being an Empath demon he'd have a better idea of Kylar's true feelings towards him but the kid's mind is not as easy to read as he'd like it to be. Perhaps by shielding his own mind, it prevents him from reading Kylar's. Whatever Lorne thinks he senses and whatever he wishes or fantasizes, the facts boil down to this: either Kylar wants something to happen between them as well or he doesn't. And there's only one way to find out.

But Lorne is too damn scared to do it.

…

That night at Caritas, Lorne notices those twin Ho'kio demons are in the crowd again. He tries not to look at them but they're a bit hard to miss, the long-haired brunette brothers sitting at the bar close to the stage, their raven locks flowing down like dark curtains of silk, their lily-white skin shimmering under the coloured club lights, limbs criss-crossed with bands of leather. They are giving him lots of obvious sexual signals, including open staring and seductive lip-licking with their lengthy black tongues. They are over a foot in length and flicker in and out like snakes, the seductive siblings using the flexible pointy ends to scoop ice cubes out of the bottom of glasses or to snatch peanuts from the dishes sitting on the top of the bar, much like a chameleon catches flies. However, rather than cause disgust, these unnaturally elongated tongues only add to the allure of the Ho'kio species because any prospective partners with half a brain cell can imagine what arousing things could be done with them. The pretty one plays with the piercing in his, deliberately twirling the silver stud between his front teeth, making sure Lorne can see it. Occasionally, the brothers lean in together and whisper in each other's pointed ears, smirking as though making dirty jokes about Lorne and perhaps discussing what they might like to do with him. Naked.

With their tongues.

Somehow, despite all this distraction, Lorne manages to get through his songs without forgetting any of the words. During a break in his performance, the twins get up on the dance floor and grind their scantily-clad bodies together – one slender and one muscular, inviting Lorne to join them with their glittering midnight eyes and secretive smiles, flashing a hint of fanged teeth. Lorne's not sure what exactly they see in him; maybe they've never slept with a Pylean before and view him as a novelty, or a challenge. Maybe they like his semi-celebrity status. Or maybe they're just sluts, sleeping their way through the entire demon population of LA. Normally, Lorne wouldn't mind being another notch on their bedpost and they definitely would relieve his built-up frustration but he's practically a father now and as such that entails a great deal of responsibility. He can't just go having reckless one-night stands because that wouldn't send a very good message to Kylar about waiting for the right person before losing his virginity. Like it or not, Lorne is a role model for the kid. He has to lead by example and resist temptation, no matter how hot, sexy or easily available these twin brothers are.

He performs a few more show tunes and then opens the stage up for karaoke, listening to his patrons sing and gleaning inside information about them using his natural-born empathic abilities. He does reading after reading which keeps him busy and stops him focusing on the Ho'kio demons and how much they are staring at him. Finally it's all over and after taking his bows and basking in the applause, everyone starts to leave and Lorne can escape backstage to his dressing room. Once safely in there, he peels off his grey jacket and starts rolling the sleeves up on his lavender coloured shirt, glad the show is finished and he can shortly go home. He hears a knock on his door. Assuming it's one of his lovely waitresses bringing him a much-needed drink, he goes over and opens it, humming softly to himself.

The Ho'kio brothers are standing there.

Lorne's voice cuts off mid-hum. The twins are even more striking and seductive up close, like two wicked wayward angels, without the wings. Or evil elves, straight out the blackest forest of the underworld. Their eyes are liquefied sin and they have markings on each of their foreheads, a line of three splotches, like drops of ink or smoky bullet holes that have healed over. They aren't tattoos but pigmented birthmarks that are unique to their race. Lorne has seen Ho'kio demons before but never any quite as beautifully arresting or darkly attractive as this couple.

"Oh, hi guys," he greets them with a nervous smile, ignoring how his heart is beginning to pound. "If you're here to get a private reading, I'm afraid I can't do it. I'm all out of Empath, sorry."

"Pity," the pretty one purrs, glancing him up and down with a flick of long lashes. "How about we read YOU instead?"

"You have empathic abilities?"

"We don't need them. We can see for ourselves how frustrated you are." The androgynous black-lipped creature leans closer, breathing in deeply. "We can smell it."

"You need us," the masculine one adds in his deeper purr, sparkling midnight eyes fixated knowingly on Lorne. "We can give you the relief you seek."

"I don't need relief," Lorne objects. "I just need to go home. Besides, I have somebody waiting for me."

He tries to close the door on them but they stop him in unison, blocking the doorway with their leather-wrapped bodies. They're both tall, possess supernatural strength and clearly don't like taking no for an answer.

"Who? A lover?"

"Well, not exactly…but…"

"Then stop pretending you don't want us. We know you do."

"Everybody wants us," the effeminate twin seconds, brazenly pushing into Lorne's dressing room while the other brother locks the door.

Lorne starts backing away in unease. "Uh, guys…you really shouldn't be in here…"

"Too bad." They both smile, showing their matching fangs. "We already are."

Advancing with swaying hips and elegant strides, their long straight hair looking like hooded cloaks, the predatory pair walk Lorne back into a wall, leaving him nowhere to go and no escape route. Trapped, he wildly looks around, wondering if he can reach his phone to call security. He could always try screaming in a super high-pitched note which usually drops most people to the ground in convulsing agony but it might not work on these demonic twins. They might be immune to it.

"Don't be scared of us, Host. We won't hurt you." the girlish one says softly and persuasively, pressing a bare hipbone into Lorne's thigh and starting to work on the cravat around his neck, unknotting and freeing it. "We just want to make you feel good. We want to relieve you of all your stress."

"And we know that you are stressed," the manly one adds, coming up to Lorne's other side and laying a strong hand on the panicking Pylean's stomach, feeling how tense and jittery he is. Lorne attempts to push him away but this guy is much harder and bulkier than his slimmer twin, his chest and arms solid with firm muscle beneath the spaced-out strips of his provocative leather costume. The scent of musk is seeping through their skins, one sweeter and one saltier, both intoxicating and alluring, yet another trick the mating pair use on their intended prey to render them helpless. Though Lorne doesn't want to respond to this unfair, two-against-one gang-up, the feel of these sexually aggressive creatures surrounding and entrapping him from both sides gives the green male a jolt of sudden savage lust, making him realise just how much he actually does need this, and does need relief.

Screw it – he should stop fighting his needs and just give in. He should just let the twins fuck his brains out and then he'll feel so much better.

…No.

No, he can't do it. Kylar is waiting for him back at the hotel.

He should go home to the boy, as he promised. As a guardian and caretaker, he should keep his word or he'll disappoint Kylar and let him down and that's the last thing Lorne wants to do to the sensitive kid. However, it might not be safe to go back there when his blood is filled with such restless dark desire. It could possibly manifest itself in some unpredictable, dangerous way, as has happened before when he couldn't control his own emotions. Should he risk accidentally Hulking out and hurting Kylar? Or should he stay here with the Ho'kio demons and let them suck it all out of him, leaving him cleansed and calm? Yet, if he does that, if he has sex with these black-haired brothers, (which is probably going to involve a high level of graphic incest) how can he ever look Kylar in the eye again? How's he going to explain where he's been?

But oh God, they smell so good and they're touching him and he really, really wants this because they're sexy as hell and he hasn't gotten laid in so fucking long…

Crap, what should he do?

…

A/N: DRAMA! lol What would you guys like to see happen? Just curious as to your thoughts ^^

Btw, I did some photoshopped artwork of the Ho'kio twins if anyone wants to see how I view them (just put the dots in where specified and remove any spaces!):

i760(dot)photobucket(dot) c o m /albums/xx243/Rina762003/Demontwins1acopy(dot)jpg

Failing that, just send me a private message with your email address and I will send it directly to you!


	7. Twin Torment

A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for your reviews. Going by what most of you said, you might be a little disappointed in Lorne here...

Warnings: Graphic M/M/M threeway sex, including twincest and hermaphrodite (boy with female sex organs). Oral, rimming, more oral, full penetration of all available entrances. Some of you will love this; some will hate it. If you can't bear the thought of seeing Lorne with anyone but Kylar, then perhaps the more sensitive readers should give this chapter a miss. It's not romantic. At all. It's rude, it's crude and Lorne is a very bad, nasty, filthy demon. Read at your own risk!

...

Part 7.

"We can see you thinking about leaving. Stop it," the muscular Ho'kio twin orders in a voice of authority as Lorne's eyes keep darting towards the dressing room door. "You're not going anywhere until we're finished with you."

"Come on, guys. Quit messing around. I really gotta go home now," Lorne tries to protest, attempting to wriggle free and slip away from the pair of long-haired demons holding him captive, however the bulkier brother isn't letting him budge, one strong white hand slamming Lorne's body harder against the wall. Lorne gasps, but it's not a gasp of pain, rather a sound of involuntary exhilaration. He's actually getting excited by the aggressiveness being shown towards him, which is unwanted but not surprising since he enjoys sex both ways, whether he's on the top or bottom. He's totally interchangeable and being manhandled so dominantly makes him go all weak at the knees, even though he knows he shouldn't respond this way. But after a full night of mentally-draining clairvoyant work and playing the enthusiastic showman on stage, he's damn near exhausted and it would be so nice to forget everything that troubles him and let someone else take charge.

Or two someone elses.

But…what about Kylar…?

"We said stop thinking," the girlish twin echoes, using a tone of silkiness to persuade Lorne instead of brute bossiness. "Just relax and let us take care of you. Let us please you. It's what we were born to do."

Pressing him against the club's dressing room wall, entrapping the empathic male from both sides, the pale-skinned Ho'kios determinedly continue their seduction, the slimmer one pulling Lorne's silver cravat free and dropping it to the floor, then unbuttoning the front of his pastel purple shirt. The effeminate demon has long ebony nails while the more masculine male's are short and blunt, and together they lightly rake these across Lorne's nude torso and belly, raising his dappled green skin in chill-bumps and making his flat nipples contract.

"Oh God," Lorne unsteadily breathes, already incredibly turned-on, and they haven't even gone anywhere near his cock yet. But they don't need to; it's as stiff as a shot of straight bourbon already. It takes all his willpower not to press it against the pretty one's slim thigh. Stripes of skin are revealed through the slits in the pants that the demon is wearing, if they could actually be called pants. They look more like black leather ribbons wound up the creature's long, leanly-muscled legs. Lorne clenches his hands by his sides, stopping himself from reaching out to those tantalising strips of soft white flesh.

As they touch him, stroking lightly across his exposed stomach and chest, the twins are staring at Lorne, shrewdly noting every expression that crosses his face and watching as his morally-upstanding resolve crumbles bit by bit under their skilled caresses. Lorne wants to look away but those mirror-image gazes have him almost hypnotised. A lot of black-eyed demons have eyes that are flat and dead which gives the eerie impression of staring into dark empty holes but this couple are different. Now that Lorne is so close to them, he can clearly see that their irises are multi-faceted, patterned to reflect light similar to the angles of a diamond. It makes their eyes sparkle and glitter like black jewels and is quite captivating.

"Do you think we're attractive, Lorne?" The pretty one questions innocently with a bat of feathery lashes, already knowing the answer to that. "Do you think we're beautiful?"

"No," Lorne feebly replies, even hearing the lie in his own voice.

The twins look to each other and laugh at him, but not meanly. Rather, they seem pleased by his attempt to fib because what it really reveals is just how much he is attracted to them. These boys are only young, no more than spawn just out of adolescence, possibly twenty or so in human years but they act with complete self-assured adultness, convinced that their dark brand of beauty is irresistible and that they can have just about anyone or anything they set their sights on. The bigger Ho'kio brings his lips to Lorne's ear, speaking lowly and confidently.

"We are going to mate with you, Host," he states, his palm sliding down Lorne's stomach to grope at the crotch of his suit-trousers, cupping the singing demon's dick and balls in one hand. Again, Lorne gasps, hips instinctively pressing forward.

"And you are going to let us."

"I-I shouldn't…." Lorne stammers, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the sudden dizzying lust clouding his thoughts.

"You should," the prettier brother suggests in his other ear, giving it a quick, delicate lick. "And you will."

"You don't have the energy to fight both of us," the bulkier twin points out. "But we can tell you don't really want to do that anyway."

"Yes, we know exactly what you want." With the flat of his tongue, the womanly one licks a burning line up Lorne's left horn, teasingly, as if licking the underside of an erection. "This."

Lorne shudders at the tremendously erotic sensation, all the tiny hairs standing up on the nape of his neck.

"Oh God," he says again, but this time is sounds more like a groan of defeat. He nobly tries to resist the twins but with both of them working on him at once, one hand firmly kneading his groin and three others wandering all over his naked torso, two stunning bodies pressing against him in an enticing mixture of softness and strength, it's just too hard. Literally. Lorne's brain might not want this to happen but his cock certainly does. It's aching, pulsing in his pants like it has a mind of its own, eager to get out and join the threesome. Being rubbed in the shower is not enough for it anymore. It wants to be licked and sucked on and encased in the sleek, hot flesh of another living being, all the things Lorne can't provide by himself. Feeling himself beginning to give up, the scarlet-eyed Pylean drops his head back against the wall, swearing under his breath.

The twins grin in triumph, knowing that they're winning. Eager to taste the handsome club owner they've eyeing off all night, they let their tongues come out to full length, like snakes emerging from a burrow, the tall brothers licking at Lorne's chin and jaw without even breaking eye contact with him, watching his face as it tightens in anticipation. Those tongues might look reptilian but they are not cold or creepy in the slightest. They feel warm, wet and strangely alive. Lorne arches his neck to give them more access, two identical appendages sliding slickly over his throat and collarbones like black tentacles, down towards his chest. After deftly spreading his shirt open, the other males lick him there, tracing over spots and freckles, swirling around one nipple, and then the other, leaving his patterned green skin damp and glistening with their saliva. The one with the tongue-stud uses the round item of jewellery to stimulate Lorne's nipples even further, making them pebble into peaks.

A moan spills out of Lorne's over-used throat, husky, hoarse and full of hunger. He may as well be on his knees waving a white flag; he's completely given up and submitted now.

"Oh, what the hell. Take me, guys," he mutters recklessly, too tired of fighting his own body's needs. "Do whatever you want to me. Wear me out so much that I won't even want to _think _about sex for a month."

As if that's exactly what they'd been waiting for, the Ho'kios retract their freakish tongues and turn to smile sinfully at each other, their sharpened canines gleaming in the light, the tips of their pointy ears peeking through strands of crow-black hair.

"We can do that. And much, much more. Now, sit," they instruct Lorne, turning him around and pushing him back onto the couch. "Watch us."

"Okey dokey," the Empath comments distractedly, wondering what the devious twins are going to do now. Suddenly, he's not tired anymore, all his senses coming back to life, nerves buzzing with expectation. To his thrill, the brothers begin to undress, not that they're wearing a lot to start with. Their outfits are mainly made up of strategically-placed strips of leather and the two long-haired demons slowly unwind these strips from each other's lithe bodies, as if unwrapping bandages, revealing one pair of strong arms and a pair of slim ones, one wide muscular chest and one flatter, narrower one, each adorned with pale-grey nipples, peaked with eagerness. The young males purposefully pinch those hard little nubs as they are revealed, baring their fangs at one another and making soft serpent-hisses, glancing sideways at Lorne to make sure he's watching the display.

He certainly is. The red-eyed Pylean couldn't even look away now if he tried. Normally, it's him that's the performer so this is a nice change. He's never been given such a sexy show before and certainly never a double strip-tease.

The brothers unwrap the parts of their outfits that cover their bellies, hips and groins, exposing one solid stomach with a full set of six-pack abs and one softer, smoother one. Since they squirmed out of a single jelly-sac birthed by their mother, they don't have belly buttons but they do have very human-looking penises, greyish in colour with darker tips, both with trimmed tufts of black fur above. They are hard already. The one belonging to the more macho male is large and has a meaty thickness to it – definitely a powerful weapon and one that Lorne would love to get hammered by. The slimmer brother's organ is smaller than his twin's but no less attractive. The span and breadth of it are in ideal proportions; not too tiny, not too big, just enough to fit perfectly in Lorne's mouth, should he get that opportunity. The demons turn and proudly show Lorne their male endowments, smirking as he licks his lips in clear approval.

Seeing two delicious dicks swinging in front of him, Lorne almost can't believe he's going to get real sex tonight, instead of just using his hand. It's been so long since he's been with anyone. There were a few lovely senoritas back on Pylea that liked to flirt with him but they never gave him any sexual favours, saving those for the battle-hardened warriors instead. It's all about the warriors there. They're like the high school jocks of his world. Guys like Lorne are never the centre of attention, except for all the wrong reasons. Here in LA, he's gotten more positive interest, occasionally having ladies follow him back to his room after a gig, practically throwing themselves at him in drunken haste. A couple of men too. Those backstage encounters were fun but he couldn't help getting the feeling they just wanted to see what a demon's dong looks like. Not that different to a human's, by the way. Just greener.

The great thing about sleeping with creatures from other dimensions is that they're used to unusual colours, weird lumps, ridges, spikes and other assorted extra accessories that regular Americans don't have. When you get naked with another demon, there's always some kind of strange surprise waiting to pop out, but they're not always bad surprises.

As far as these Ho'kio twins go, they're actually very humanoid in appearance, despite their completely black eyes and death-white skin. They are warm-blooded and they have beating hearts in their chests. Their flesh is sleek and smooth with no scales, growths or knobs, and they don't have tails or horns or needle-like spines anywhere on their bodies. Their ears are pointed at the tops and their canine teeth are sharp as well, almost like vampires, but their most demonic features are their long, dark, serpentine tongues. They are incredibly agile, flexible and useful, practically like another limb. Right now they have extended them towards each other and the tips are languidly playing together as the two related males finish undressing, unwinding the last few strips of leather from around their calves and ankles and slipping their buckled boots off.

Now completely naked, the smaller male caresses his brother's dick, a ladylike hand stroking along the large veined shaft as they lean in for a kiss, two slick black tongues entwining like mating vipers. The bigger one pulls his twin closer by the hips, pressing their cocks together, the two of them slowly grinding in unison much like they did on the dance floor, only without any clothing to separate them. As they make sensually undulating flesh-to-flesh contact, the raven-haired siblings stare into each other's ebony eyes, both demons giving similar low-pitched, purring sounds of enticement, similar to the chesty rumbling of big cats. The way they interact is mesmerizing. It's obvious that they they've done this many times already and that they still excite each other. They excite Lorne too. He's never been with twins before. The idea of two blood relatives – two brothers - getting off together is wrong and bad and dirty but that's what makes it so unbelievably hot. That and the fact that they don't give a shit what anyone thinks of their incestuous relationship. They love to pleasure each other and they love people to watch. It's amazing how openly debauched and devilish they are. Fortunately, Lorne is a bit of a devil too, if the horn straining against his zipper is any indication.

Finished with their exhibitionistic foreplay, the siblings stroll naked over to the couch, each sitting either side of Lorne. Together, they strip away Lorne's shirt and then get to work on his trousers, unzipping and pulling them off along with his Italian leather shoes, socks and underwear, letting his green erection spring forth. It's not what Lorne would call 'impressive' and measures about average in size but he's had no complaints before. It works fine, it stays hard and it's pleasant to look at. The tip is a rich cranberry colour, clear droplets already coating it and making the glossy flesh gleam. There are a few darker freckles sprinkled along the underside as decoration. The slender Ho'kio exclaims in delight at the sight, bending down to take hold of the jutting length between Lorne's thighs, licking the head of it before eagerly closing his mouth over it like a lollypop. Lorne inhales a fast breath at the moist heat sinking onto his rod, inch by inch. He feels the metal tongue-stud grazing down the underneath of his shaft - small, round and erotically stimulating. He feels the creature swallowing around him with a velvet-lined throat, taking him further and further in. Soon, his entire dick is easily enveloped, right down to the base, the end of a girlish nose buried in his brown pubic thatch.

With both hands, the bigger brother gathers up his twin's raven hair and holds it out of the way so he and Lorne can clearly see what is happening down there. The pointy-eared seducer bent over Lorne's lap sucks in his cheeks and pulls, slowly sliding his black lips upwards along the engulfed organ, reaching the top and then greedily gulping it all down again, careful not to let those sharp canine teeth scratch or cut Lorne's sensitive skin. Mouth, tongue and throat work in synchronization to suck, stroke and swallow every centimetre of the Empath's solid sex, working it from root to tip. Lorne can't stop himself from groaning in open admiration; the hot little hussy really was born to do this.

"Fuck, baby…your mouth is fantastic," he mutters, lifting his pelvis up off the couch in encouragement. The ebony-eyed male at the end of the praise hums appreciatively around Lorne's hardened cock, both of them enjoying the deep-throated act. Beside them, the more masculine twin watches like a silent voyeur as his pretty brother does what he's so very good at, each slide of his skilful mouth drawing helpless moans out of Lorne's larynx, the musical male getting nearer and nearer to climax. The ring in the kneeling creature's tongue adds even more sparks of sensuality to the experience for Lorne, the little steel bead sliding stimulatingly around his throbbing flesh. His hands have separated and wandered off on their own accord, one gripping the stronger brother's muscled thigh and the other exploring the warm smoothness of the second twin's white shoulder and elegantly arched back. It's like touching the powdery petals of a funeral lily.

"I'm going to come soon," he breathlessly warns the sucking Ho'kio, feeling the familiar tingling as his full sack tightens in preparation. With a final slurp, the effeminate demon relinquishes Lorne's dick and sits back, allowing his sibling to take over and finish Lorne off. The bigger male grasps the saliva-slick flesh in his fist, jerking Lorne with a firm, steady grip until the red-eyed Empath is gasping and squirting streams of creamy jism across his own stomach and the other demon's pumping hand. Immediately, the pretty twin descends upon him to ravenously lick it all up, a darting tongue lapping over his belly and the still-oozing end of his prick. Any that gets missed, the twin's buff brother cleans up, the two of them licking each other's mouths and cooing about how good Lorne tastes.

While Lorne's head is still spinning with the intensity of his orgasm, the black-lipped brunette beside him sits sideways on the couch, draping a pair of svelte, model-like legs over his lap.

"Lorne, look what I have for you," the young male entices, spreading his moonlight-pale thighs. "Look."

Lorne's eyes widen as he sees a small, perfect pussy, hidden under the base of the Ho'kio's cock. A lot of demons are hermaphrodites, especially beautifully ambiguous ones like this. Rather than shock him or turn him off, Lorne is even more aroused, especially when he notices how wet the creature is between the legs. Its secret sex is smooth and shaven, the neat female folds light grey with black inner lips, unfurled and moistened with an excess of clear natural lubrication. It glistens, like a dewy Gothic orchid.

"Isn't it pretty?"

Staring in fascination, Lorne swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, it sure is."

"Wanna lick it?" the womanly twin invites, dipping a fingertip into its own juices and sucking them off, dark gaze daring Lorne to accept the challenge. "I can lick myself but it's so much nicer when someone else does it for me."

Lorne raises a hairless brow. With the length of those tongues, he does not doubt that the dual-sexed demon can accomplish what it says.

"Do it," the bigger Ho'kio bosses, gripping the back of Lorne's neck and beginning to push him down. Lorne decides to follow the order, not that it was a tough choice or anything. He loves eating pussy, no matter what colour it is or who it belongs to. Settling on the lounge between the creature's long legs, Lorne slips his hands under his/her thighs, studying the intriguing anatomy in front of him. That musky perfume he can smell in the room seems to be emanating mainly from here. There are outer lips and inner ones but no clitoris, because that's where the penis emerges from. Despite its comparative smallness when measured up to to the other brother's mighty piece of equipment, it's still one succulent-looking dick, pale slate in appearance and shaped to perfection with a fine network of silvery veins and a divine, bell-shaped tip. Deciding to sample that first, Lorne drags his tongue up the underside of that charming cock, feeling it twitch beneath him. He briefly swirls around the end and then sucks the whole lot into his mouth, relishing the slight saltiness of the ash-grey length before the impatient hermaphrodite tugs at his hair, wanting his face down lower.

"Not there. Keep going down."

Reluctantly releasing that tasty morsel of hard flesh, Lorne obeys, lowering his head and angling his neck to reach the softer, more delicately-designed tissue beneath. Tracing the outer parts with his tongue-tip first, he then dips into the centre of that floral elegance, discovering a fount of sweetness unlike anything he's sampled before. It's like honey, sucrose or glycerine, only much more concentrated, yet not in a sickly or sticky way. It is light in texture and has a faint, fruity taste of papaya, making it seem even more exotic and luscious. Giving a groan of thirst, Lorne plunges in further with his tongue, trying to get more of that deliciousness. He sucks at that pretty pussy, eating it like a starving man. The Ho'kio moans, more of a high-pitched trilling alien sound, but the look on its face is definitely a moaning look. It reaches climax quickly, shuddering beneath Lorne's mouth.

He pulls back to observe the event, curious to see how the androgynous twin orgasms and through which organ it will happen. As he watches, the demon's inner pelvic muscles clench and contract, causing a trickle of syrupy fluid to drip forth from its feminine parts like nectar out of a flower, running down over a second, smaller opening. The sight of that girl-come is so delicious Lorne has to taste it all over again. He lifts the lightweight figure up off the couch by the hips and buries his head between its spread, twitching thighs so he can lap the honeyed trail away, tasting that alluring little black hole while he's down there too. When Lorne probes into that tiny nether entrance and proceeds to tongue-fuck it in precise jabs, another orgasm quakes through the effeminate body and more syrup trickles out from above, leaving the Ho'kio's penis as hard as ever. It's leaking from the charcoal-coloured slitted end, but the creature holds onto its male seed, presumably saving that for the final finish. Its testicular organs would be on the inside, neatly tucked away so as not to distract from that sweet, shaved kitty.

"That was very nice, Host. Your mouth is fantastic too," the Ho'kio sighs and stretches sinuously on the couch like a lazy feline, wallowing in the joy of afterglow. His face smeared with the creature's colourless musk, Lorne sits up and turns around to find the bigger brother staring at him with those glittering jet-black eyes, stony-faced and silent.

"Uh…hi there," Lorne says with a nervous laugh, wondering what the other male is thinking and hoping he's not jealous or anything. The second demon just stares at him, not saying a word. With frightening speed he moves, grabbing Lorne by the throat and leaning in really close so their faces almost touch, his upper lip lifting to show a pair of menacing white fangs. Alarmed, Lorne sits absolutely still, not even daring to blink or breathe. Though the Ho'kio isn't squeezing his neck and doesn't appear to want to kill him, he's still kind of scary and intimidating. Okay, kind of a lot. With those vamp-like teeth and all those rock-hard muscles, Lorne would have no chance of fighting against the guy whatsoever and would just end up dead. But instead of being attacked the dominant demon simply sniffs him, smelling his twin's sex-essence clinging to Lorne's mouth and chin, drawn by the bewitching scent. He begins to lick it off, like a dog licking ice-cream from its master's face. Relieved, Lorne starts breathing again, the Ho'kio's tongue warm and wet on his skin.

"Sweetest thing you ever tasted, isn't it?" The long-haired demon asks, his black lips brushing against Lorne's in an intimate way.

"Oh, absolutely…" Lorne murmurs with half-closed eyes, waiting for the rough kiss he's sure is coming. But after another savouring sniff, the muscular twin pulls away and releases him. Lorne barely has time to gulp with disappointment before the prettier Ho'kio focuses on him again, pressing Lorne onto his back and climbing onto him in reverse, so that he/she can bend down and tend to Lorne's newly-stiffened dick while giving him a close-up view of that firm bottom and delectable boy-pussy. Ink-black hair falls forwards and brushes over his thighs like swaths of dyed silk, soft and sensuous. The demon casually flicks it out of the way, revealing one pointed ear. That snake-like tongue emerges from the twin's mouth, spiralling all the way around Lorne's eager shaft, just like in his shower fantasy. The Pylean performer groans as he gets orally pleased for the second time, which is more than he usually receives in any one night stand. The hermaphrodite's own erect member hangs down to touch Lorne's chest, smearing pre-come onto the other man's green speckled skin. The scent of musk is strong and intoxicatingly affecting. Unable to just look at what's right in front of his face, Lorne cups an ass-cheek and slides two fingers into the sexy creature's orchid-like wetness, working them in and out. It's scorching and steamy on the inside, like a blackberry pie just out of the oven. Pressing deeper and deeper, he searches for a female G-spot, his fingers coated in slippery secretions. Eventually, the beautiful Ho'kio lifts its head, panting in shallow gasps.

"Inside," it urges Lorne, scrambling on hands and knees in a submissive, spread-legged position and grabbing at Lorne's arm to pull him closer. "Want you inside."

Getting up and kneeling behind the urgently waiting femme-demon on the couch, Lorne turns to the other brother and asks hesitantly, "I won't get him…her… pregnant, will I?"

"No. It's not breeding season yet," the second twin assures. "Besides, we only breed with our own kind. However, we can rut with anyone else we like."

"And we like you, Lorne," the pretty one says, looking over a shoulder with lust in its midnight eyes. "Do you like us? Do we turn you on?"

As these lusty creatures gaze at him in expectation, Lorne suddenly realises something. He can say and do things to these guys that he would never say or do to Kylar. He doesn't have to worry about hurting them, upsetting them or offending them because they don't care. They just want to fuck.

And that's precisely what he wants too.

Clearing his mind of the trusting teenage boy back at the hotel, Lorne instead fixes his focus on the two sexually-demanding demons here with him now, intent on showing them that he can be just as perverted and raunchy as they are.

"Does this answer your question?" he returns in a near-growl, plunging his rigid cock into that eager, dripping honey-pot. It's hotly scalding and soaking wet. After about ten thrusts, the gender-bending creature comes for the third time, emitting a shrill wailing noise. Having both male and female organs means that it can probably climax as many times as it desires so Lorne doesn't stop; he just keeps on fucking, showing this slim-hipped lady-boy what a real man can do. The beefier brother is crouched nearby, watching his twin get taken on the couch, fisting his own largely engorged member and rolling a weighty pair of balls in his other hand. Momentarily distracted, Lorne stops to stare at him and his amazing body. He really is a magnificent specimen. The demon's hair drapes over his wide shoulders and down his broad back like a shadowy veil, inky forehead markings offsetting the pale perfection of his complexion. His jaw is like carved marble and emphasises the fullness of his masculine mouth. His eyes burn like black fire as he looks back at Lorne's trim figure, both of them assessing and appreciating each other's very different male beauty. With his bright scarlet gaze, russet horns and green patterned flesh, Lorne seems just as interesting and attractive to the Ho'kio as the pale-skinned Ho'kio does to Lorne.

Sick of being ignored, if only for a few seconds, the third demon shifts an arm and Lorne glances down to see the hermaphrodite reaching around and fingering itself, one long-nailed tip delving in and out of its own rear entrance.

"That's what you want, huh?" Lorne guesses, rubbing his glistening red cock-head teasingly against that closed black pucker. "You want it in here?"

"Yessss," the demon hisses, pushing back against him. "Put it in, Host."

"Say please."

At the taunting, the Ho'kio hisses again. "Pleassse!"

A sadistic smirk on his lips, Lorne pushes inside the tight tunnel and is gratified to feel the highly-responsive creature writhe in yet another orgasmic spasm.

"Shit, you come so easily…" Lorne taunts the demon further by withdrawing fully and entering it again, but only shallowly, just using his dick-tip to tease it with, popping it in and out of that stretchy ring of nerves. "Mmm…You like that, you dirty little whore?"

"Yes. Oh, yes… Give me more of that gorgeous green cock. Fill me up," the sexually-indeterminate being begs as Lorne drives all the way in and begins to roughly screw him. Her. It. Whatever. Lorne doesn't care; all he knows is that the squirming, shuddering, insatiable thing bent over before him feels awesome and he wants to fuck it in every way possible.

"Yeah," the bulkier brother drawls in voyeuristic approval. "Shove it right in there. The bitch likes it hard."

Lorne is already doing that, screwing that fine ass with slapping thrusts, his nuts banging against a sopping slit underneath. He takes out all his built-up frustrations on the girly demon while the other brother watches and they both let him be as nasty and violent as he wants. They both appear to get off on it, the bigger one in simmering dark-eyed silence and the smaller one much more vocally, expressing its carnal enjoyment with all kinds of interesting noises that humans are unable to make. Some of the sounds are remarkably birdlike including melodic trills and warbles while others resemble lizards or amphibious animals – chirping, clicking, hissing, even frog-like barks and croaks. There are also eerie noises that sound similar to a leopard yowl or a wolf wail or a howler monkey's banshee bellow. The Ho'kio's vocabulary range is astonishing, reaching notes that even Lorne can't reach. Thank heavens the music is still loudly playing outside in the club or everyone in it would be able to hear this unearthly mating racket.

Occasionally, the twin combines different cries to form complex sound-layers that Lorne has never heard before on this planet but he likes the unusual calls of passion because it means the demon loves what he's doing to it, Lorne's brightly-coloured cranberry-tipped cock ramming into that pure white body, jolts of impact rippling through the Ho'kio from head to toe and making that shiny mane of raven hair bounce and swing around its orgasmically-contorted face.

After one particularly bruising thrust, Lorne misjudges his aim and slips out, the quieter twin helping him go back in by holding his sibling's cheeks apart, keeping that elastic black hole wide open for him. Lorne alternates between fucking it and the drenched pussy below, the double-sexed demon clenching around Lorne's plundering prick in encouragement, making whimpery little twitters of pleasure as both of its openings are used and abused.

Just when he knows the slimmer twin is close to coming again, Lorne draws out of its gaping asshole, yanking the subservient demon around by the hair and making it kneel in front of him.

"Open your mouth, you greedy slut," he demands, jamming his dick into the creature's compliantly parted lips, thrusting a few times before pulling out and spurting on its feminine face with a groan of release. The pearly white fluid ropes over the demon's cheeks, nose and chin, but it simply curls out a tongue and licks Lorne's semen off, cleaning it away with that dexterous appendage, humming and clearly enjoying the taste of Lorne's salty essence. Lorne momentarily feels mean for not letting him/her come again but the larger demon takes care of that, shoving his twin backwards onto the couch and bending a pair of lithe legs right back over its head. Not just nymphomaniacs, apparently Ho'kio demons are quite gymnastic too.

The muscular male teases his smaller partner, prodding at both those available holes as if not sure which one to go into, the transgendered twin giving scolding dolphin-clicks of impatience. Both of the demon's openings are pre-lubed, thanks to Lorne, so no other preparation is necessary. With a knowing grin the Ho'kio on top makes a choice and sinks his hefty tool into the other's bottom entry, his slender sibling giving a throaty rumble of appreciation. The bigger brother's cock is much thicker than Lorne's, much wider and fatter than his. Lorne would have been jealous and felt inadequate if the whole scene he's witnessing wasn't so fucking hot.

Content to watch for now, Lorne observes the demonic pair together. Hands under his twin's knees, the aggressive Ho'kio pounds the other into the couch, much more powerfully and possessively than Lorne was able to do. There is the slap of flesh on sweaty flesh; sticky, slick noises. They don't so much purr anymore as growl and snarl, showing their sharpened canines to each other in a display of deep arousal. In the middle of being savagely fucked by his stronger brother, the prettier Ho'kio throws his head back, squeezes his own dick and loses himself in the moment, the brutal pounding finally getting him off and making him ejaculate like a man. Lorne can see him tightening around the wide shaft in his ass, gritting pointed teeth together and hissing as the milky liquid he'd been saving squirts across his tensed belly and flat chest. Emitting a loud roar as he too reaches his peak, the all-male demon pulls out, spreads his twin's labia apart and comes all over that beautiful black orchid, decorating it with copious jets of his gushing seed.

The twins collapse together, panting, arms and legs wrapped around each other. When they catch their breath, the two demons look at each other and smile before exchanging soft kisses, licks and nuzzles of loving fondness, completely opposite to the animalistic way they were fucking. On the sidelines, Lorne starts to feel left out by their obvious affection and closeness but then they turn to him, tugging him down and nuzzling him too, laughing about how much fun that was. Curiously, they don't seem to kiss other people but Lorne is actually glad because he'd find that too intimate somehow. There's only one pair of lips he wants to kiss (and they are the colour of the sweetest, richest wine) but he refuses to think about them, instead focusing on the two black and white entities of evilness that he has the pleasure of sinning with in his dressing room tonight.

Lorne still doesn't know their names but he doesn't need to and so he does not ask. What he needs from these demons is what they're giving him. And they're not done yet. The broad-shouldered male instructs Lorne to take the unisex twin together with him, both of them stuffing both their cocks into one tight little cunny, one from underneath and one on top, the willing Ho'kio between them orgasming three times in a row just from that, sobbing in ecstasy and squeezing out more of that warm nectar. The nameless brother cleans it all up, parting his sibling's legs and slithering a black tongue along that female flower, licking away those sweet juices, even probing up inside to get every last drop of it which results in yet another thigh-trembling orgasm from the insatiable raven-haired nymphet.

While the pretty one is resting and recovering, the masculine twin takes charge, dominating Lorne, forcing him to his knees and making him suck some big, fat demon dick. Luckily, Lorne doesn't have a gag reflex (due to the extreme flexibility of his vocal chords) and he swallows the whole fleshy lot of it right down to the hilt, a heavy pair of balls resting on his chin. The male he's sucking gives a gratified grunt, curling a fist into Lorne's short, blond-tipped hair and proceeding to fuck his mouth and throat. Faced with an immovable wall of abs, Lorne can't do anything but let him, clutching onto the other demon's manly thighs, feeling bulky muscles flex and tense with each rock of the Ho'kio's hips. The girlish twin observes them for a while with half-lidded eyes but eventually crawls up behind Lorne as he kneels on the floor, nudging his legs apart. Finding his private opening, the brunette creature licks and traces it, rimming Lorne gently at first and gradually driving deeper with that wet, agile foot-long muscle, getting him slicked up and stretched. The expert tonguing soon has Lorne quivering and moaning on the jaw-breaking rod in his mouth, his own dick swollen and weeping again, more than ready for what's next.

The larger male grabs Lorne and throws him around, positioning himself at Lorne's pre-prepared hole. He shoves in without mercy, biting Lorne on the shoulder at the same time, sharp teeth sinking into freckled olive skin. Lorne chokes back a scream, the pain taking him to a new level of excitement. Licking blood off his lips, the forceful twin pushes Lorne's horned head to the floor. Face-first on the carpet of his dressing room with another guy roughly holding him down, Lorne gets his ass drilled jarringly and unrelentingly, the tri-sexual Empath crying out with pained pleasure as he's coming around the dominant Ho'kio's massive stabbing prick, the pretty one watching the sight of Lorne spilling onto his own floor with satisfaction in its glittery black-diamond eyes.

Tears are wetting Lorne's face as he's shivering in the aftermath but it's not because he's hurt or humiliated – it's just that these demons, mere youths and complete strangers to him, seem to know exactly what he needs without even being told, giving him the release and relief he's been so desperately craving for weeks now. Rather than feel used or taken advantage of, Lorne feels as though they are doing him a huge favour, the twins working together to drain his dangerous desires and cleanse his troubled psyche. Already, it feels as though an immense burden has been lifted off his back. He didn't realise just how much he needed this until now, which is why he's nearly bawling like a baby. Being a proud man from a proud race, Lorne doesn't normally let anyone see him cry so he curls up into a protective ball and tries to hide his face in his arms.

The almost-identical brothers seem to understand his overwhelming outpour of emotion and lie beside him on the floor, both of them petting and soothing the green-skinned entertainer, his tears licked away with gentle tongues. It's unexpectedly sympathetic of them. They might appear to be cunning sexual predators but perhaps they are not so evil and heartless after all. They could have picked anyone else in the club to spend the night with but they chose him, simply because they sensed how much he was suffering and wanted to help. As strange as it seems, it's the kindest, most unselfish thing anyone has done for Lorne in a long while and he is indescribably thankful to the pair of Ho'kios for their surprising compassion.

When they are certain that Lorne is okay, the insatiably hungry siblings start touching and arousing him all over again, nowhere near done with their twincest sex-games. After three orgasms, each more intense than the last, Lorne isn't sure he can even get it up anymore but his seductively determined partners manage to make him iron-hard in moments, purring and rubbing up against him from both sides like alley-cats in heat until he is groaning and wanting more.

And more Lorne gets.

In a locked room with two virile male demons and a horny hermaphrodite, the combinations of positions and pairings are endless.

…

Hours later, Lorne wakes up naked on the couch with his own cravat still tied around one wrist. Sometime during the exhaustive demonic three-way, he must have run out of oomph and fallen asleep. The twins are gone. He didn't even get to thank them or say goodbye. The last thing he groggily remembers is being bound by the wrists and forbidden to touch while the prettier Ho'kio grinned playfully and bounced on top of him, riding his dick like a pogo stick. Reaching down, he is not at all surprised to find it soft, sore and utterly worn out. But that's what he wanted, so he wouldn't keep thinking about…

Oh shit. Kylar!

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realises that it's horrendously late but maybe if he hurries, the kid might still be up and awake.

Maybe.

He hastily reclothes himself, emerging from his backstage dressing room. The club is empty, the bar staff having cleaned up and put all the money in the safe already. They must have known he was busy…entertaining…as they've left a light on for him. He's the very last person to leave and so he turns off the power and locks up, hailing a cab back to the Hyperion Hotel.

When Lorne creeps upstairs and into Kylar's room, he finds the crimson-eyed youth fast asleep on the bed, fully dressed and with a book in his lap, a lit candle still flickering on the bedside table. He had been waiting for Lorne. And Lorne didn't show up. Gently taking the book away, the older Pylean sets it aside and covers the teen's small frame with a blanket, careful not to disturb him.

"Forgive me, sweetheart," he whispers in guilt, softly stroking Kylar's hair. Fredelia pokes her head out from the boy's berry-coloured locks and glares at Lorne with beady bat-eyes, as if she knows precisely what he's been up to all this time. And she probably does. Bats have a great sense of smell. She must be able to detect the mating-scent of other demons on him and by the looks of her disgusted scowl, she doesn't like it one bit. She even curls her lip, showing her teeny, tiny fanged teeth in a threatening snarl. Lorne quickly pulls his hand back before he gets snapped at and bitten, hurriedly leaving the room and going to his own for a shower, washing the salty-sweet musk of those raven-haired twins off his body.

The sex he had with them was incredible and probably the best he'd ever experienced so far in his life but now that it's all over, Lorne is starting to wish he hadn't done it. Yeah, he's a hell of a lot calmer now but at what cost? Something far down in his empathic soul tells him that he might end up in an enormous amount of trouble over this. Even though he and Kylar are not a couple and have never agreed to be, Lorne still has the awfully unpleasant feeling of having cheated on him. It leaves a sick sensation in his stomach that overshadows his previous pleasure. With a regret-laden heart, bitten shoulder and bruised backside, he flops front-first onto his mattress, burying his face into a pillow and praying the innocent boy down the hall never, ever finds out what he's done.

…

A/N: So...I realise most of you are pissed at Lorne right now. But please, please don't give up on him yet! He can redeem himself! You have to remember that Lorne's not perfect; he has weaknesses and he makes mistakes, just like any other man. The questions here are: Can you forgive him for this? Will Kylar find out? If so, will he be able to forgive Lorne too? Or will he turn to someone else? Maybe run away? Just think, this now creates an opportunity for a hell of a lot more drama and angsting! Let me know what you think, please?


	8. The Secret is Out

A freshly baked new update for all readers of mine! Much gratitude to the following loyal subjects: Psychotic Sprite, Full Moon Child, QueenTakhsis, PatienceDominique and dawn444. I trust that this chapter starts to intrigue your imagination and shows you how things are beginning to move forward with the story. Angst and drama have finally arrived :)

…

Part 8.

Kylar is disappointed that Lorne didn't come to his room last night (he stayed awake as long as he could) but the sensitive boy tries not to show it, having breakfast, meeting his tutor for lessons and then starting a sword-fighting session with Wesley and Gunn, focusing on that instead of why his guardian never kept his promise. He supposes that Lorne must have had a very good reason for not being there, however he still missed out on that song he was so looking forward to.

When Lorne finally emerges from his bedroom just after lunch, he spins a vague lie about being tired after his stage performance at the club and having collapsed on his couch, drifting off to sleep without realising it. He still looks exhausted with dark circles under his normally sparkling red eyes so Kylar believes the fib wholeheartedly. Being one himself, Kylar can understand how demanding and mentally draining an Empath's line of work can get and so he doesn't question Lorne any further, letting the older man quietly sit and watch the training without bothering him.

Of course, Lorne has already mixed himself up a lunchtime cocktail. He doesn't think he can stomach food right now, not with his belly still twisted up in knots. The bite mark on his shoulder has turned dark like a bruise but can't be seen under the long sleeve of his shirt. It twinges every time he lifts his arm up to take a sip of his drink, constantly reminding the guilty male of what he was doing last night with the sharp-toothed Ho'kio twins when poor, unaware Kylar sat up innocently waiting for him. Lorne knows the demonic hickey will go away over the next couple of days but the memory of how it got there never will, nor will the heavy guilt he feels. Where's one of those brain-sucking bugs when a guy needs them?

He manages to avoid Kylar for most of the day, or rather Kylar is so busy practicing how to stake a vampire with Connor and Angel that Lorne doesn't need to avoid him. The kid is kept quite occupied doing his own thing and Lorne is thankful for that innate independence, and that he doesn't need to tell any more lies to the boy. One a day is plenty. Any more than that, and Lorne's nose will grow bigger.

Soon enough, the sun goes down and after a hastily-eaten snack of salmon sushi, Lorne vanishes into his room to get ready for another show. He does two on weekends - Friday evening and Saturday evening. During the week, Caritas is open on Tuesday (which is Ladies Night – women of all races and species get free drinks the entire night) and then there's Wicked Wednesdays, where demons and humans alike come dressed in their naughtiest bedroom attire, horns and wings optional. Tonight is just a regular Saturday show performance for Lorne with Broadway tunes, karaoke, fortune-telling and later on, a DJ for the younger club patrons to dance to. Admittedly, he isn't a huge fan of this electronic techno stuff because it makes his head hurt but the twenty-something crowd love it and they always spend a ton on drinks so he can't afford to exclude them from his establishment or just cater for the golden oldies. Money is money and making it is the main aim of Lorne's business. After all, he has staff to pay and bills to keep on top of. Helping people and sharing his psychic wisdom is just something he does on the side. Not that everyone listens to his advice but hey, he tries. It'd just be a shame to let his God-given talent go to waste.

Everyone else in the hotel readies themselves for their nightly activities as well. After a quick cup of warmed pig blood, Angel heads off to a job with Wesley and Gunn to search for a missing young boy who was possibly taken as a virgin sacrifice for a coven of satanic male witches. Fred's parents are in town so she is having dinner with them and Cordelia has a date with some hunky Spanish soccer player. Cordy still loves the Groosalugg and misses his mighty muscles but he's off in another dimension being its powerful but fair ruler and overseer of justice. And anyway, what Groo doesn't know won't hurt him.

As for Kylar, well, he has plans of his own. Taking a shower, he hides out in his room until he knows that Lorne has left. Then he sneaks out to Lorne's club. The older Pylean gets a cab there, so he can drink on the way, but Kylar walks, his face shadowed within the hood of his long-sleeved top, hands hidden in the front pouch. Nobody knows he is doing this. Not even Connor. If Connor knew, he wouldn't let Kylar walk around the streets by himself but the young vampire hunter is out somewhere in the city, occupying himself with slaying. Or perhaps he is meeting his boyfriend for secret sexual intercourse. Kylar is alone but he feels safe enough and is confident in his self-defence skills. Following Connor's example, he is carrying a knife strapped to his ankle and a stake to the other but Kylar hopes not to use either of them, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact, taking the quickest route to the karaoke club without anybody noticing him. He knows the way to Caritas because he walked from there to the Hyperion Hotel on the first night he arrived in LA. He has a very good memory for distances and directions, a skill gained back in the wilderness of Pylea.

He is curious to see what this establishment of Lorne's is like. Kylar saw the place only once, when he tumbled out of the portal above the stage, but it was dark, quiet and empty then. He wants to know what Caritas looks like with all the lights on and full of people, full of music. But most of all, he wants to watch Lorne perform, to hear him sing. He doesn't want to wait for Lorne to get home. Kylar is too full of longing to wait. And what if Lorne becomes tired and falls asleep on the dressing room couch, like last night? Then Kylar will again miss out on listening to Lorne's magical voice. No, he is getting out into the world and making things happen. As Connor said: Life's too short to sit around waiting.

When he arrives at the club, Kylar can already hear Lorne's voice, muffled through the walls. The muscle-bound demon bouncer at the door almost doesn't let Kylar in, thinking he's too young, but when the strict security guard takes a second look at the red eyes, horns and green skin of Kylar's complexion, he assumes the kid must be related to Lorne somehow and so the gigantic bowtie-wearing doorman steps back to usher him through. Inside, it's dark and smells like smoke and alcohol. Lorne refuses to adopt a non-smoking policy in the club, his little 'fuck you' to the rest of the politically correct world and its stifling laws. Actually, it's a beneficial thing to have such a heavy layer of smoke permeating the air as it covers up the zoo-like animal stench of so many different demon species crammed into one space.

Squeezing through the diverse crowd and avoiding various spines, talons and horns along the way, Kylar finds a vacant spot at the bar, perching on a stool so he can have an unobstructed view of the stage and the dazzling performer on it. Lorne is wearing a powder-blue suit with a crisp white shirt underneath and a navy silk tie to finish the outfit off. He looks classically elegant, the spotlight making his spiky hair glow golden and proving what a shining star he rightfully is.

Though this is a demon-friendly establishment and he doesn't have to don a disguise here, Kylar keeps his hood up and his face shadowed, not wanting Lorne to recognise him because he might get into trouble. Lorne told him not to come to this place and Kylar knows he is showing punishable disobedience but he is glad he's here now because just being in the same room as Krevlornswath gives the eighteen year old youth a delightful warm feeling in his tummy. As usual, the sound of Lorne's heavenly voice transports Kylar into a realm of magic and the younger demon sits there watching in open awe, as if bewitched.

Lorne's wonderful - talking, joking and laughing with the crowd, a microphone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other, a cigarette held between his first two fingers. He manages to drink, smoke, chat and sing without spilling anything or forgetting his lyrics or the punch line to any of his jokes. His words are full of charm and humour and his smile dazzles like the sun. Everyone adores him and it makes Kylar feel so proud to know that Lorne is his guardian alone. He hopes for them to be more than that soon and is still patiently waiting for the day when Lorne decides the moment is right. For the time being, Kylar is happy to gaze upon his idol and dream of that moment.

Somebody buys Kylar a drink and places it in front of him but the kid is too enraptured by Lorne's commanding stage presence to even touch it or thank the anonymous buyer.

Partway through a cabaret performance of 'Hit the Road, Jack', Lorne spots a small figure at the end of the bar and his heart immediately leaps into his stomach. Even without seeing Kylar's face Lorne knows exactly who is sitting there. One Empath cannot mistake another of their own kind. But Kylar should not be here, in a nightclub full of carnivores and cannibals. He should be at home, in bed. Safe. Not sitting at the bar like a sweet cherry waiting to be plucked by clawed, gluttonous hands. Fear mixes with fury, Lorne's pulse rising rapidly. Kylar promised he wouldn't come to Caritas. He promised! The brat better have a damn good reason as to why he defied Lorne's rule and showed up anyway. Trying not to let his emotions show or his voice crack, Lorne finishes the song, smilingly thanks the audience for their applause and gestures for the DJ to play some filler music, quickly exiting the stage to go deal with his disobedient foster-son.

Kylar sees Lorne coming and stiffens on the chair, half in dread that he's been discovered and half-excited that his guardian is going to speak to him personally. When he reaches the bar stool and the small teenager perched on it, Lorne yanks Kylar's hoodie down to reveal that angelic face, the older male trying to control the volume of his voice.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kylar? I told you never to come to this place!"

"I just wanted to see you," the boy answers innocently.

"How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"You walked?" Lorne glances around but can't see Connor or any of the gang anywhere. "Alone?"

"Yes. I remembered the way." Kylar's self-reliant Pylean pride makes his chin lift up. "I am not a child. I did not need an escort."

"That's not the point, you little idiot!" Lorne hauls him off the seat and pushes him into a private corner, his actions rough with anger. His red eyes glare furiously into Kylar's wide, shocked ones.

"You could have gotten yourself killed, you stupid, stupid boy," Lorne hisses fiercely, his clenched fingers bruising the teen's narrow shoulders. "I told you to stay at the hotel! You swore to me you would and I trusted you. You are so fucking grounded for this, young man! You hear me?"

Not expecting such an angry reception from his normally gentle care-taker, Kylar trembles and gives a tiny whimper, as if he's going to cry, and Lorne immediately regrets his harsh words, letting go of the boy's upper arms and taking a step back.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry," Lorne repeats in a hasty apology, holding both his hands up. "I didn't mean to grab you or snarl at you. But you don't understand…this place is dangerous. And I'm not just talking about the unstable portal over the stage. The types of demons that come here… I know what they're capable of and I just don't want you getting mixed up with them, that's all."

Lorne's forehead is wrinkled in anxious unease as he tries to get his point across "Look around, Kylar. Can't you see how everyone is staring at you?"

Kylar hesitantly sweeps his gaze about the club. Now that he's not focused on Lorne and his arresting stage presence, he finally notices how many other demons have fixed their eyes on him. And it's not like when Lorne looks at him. When Lorne looks at him, Kylar enjoys it. It makes him feel good. Feel special. This kind of unblinking, intense staring, from so many greedy pairs of eyes, makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle in warning. It's the same feeling he used to get on Pylea right before a snarling Drokken or some other savage beast launched itself out of the bushes and came charging towards him, intent on ripping his frail frame into pieces of wet flesh and cracked bone.

Suddenly, he realises that that's exactly what could happen to him here too. It's a different dimension and a whole new world, much more advanced and free than Pylea, but there are just as many vicious creatures here as there are on his home land and Kylar is nothing but prey to them.

Finally understanding why Lorne wouldn't let him come here before, the inexperienced youth whispers in dismay, "You were trying to protect me."

"Exactly. My job is to take care of you and I can't do that if you won't listen to what I say. Dammit, Kylarkmar - you have no idea how much I worry about you," Lorne despairs, smoothing back the boy's hair and cupping his all-too-innocent face. "If you got hurt, my little zucchini, I don't know what I'd do. I'd never, ever forgive myself."

Realising that he's made a grave mistake in coming here against Lorne's wishes, Kylar is about to apologise tenfold for not listening to his concerned custodian and for betraying his trust but before he can get a word out, two dark shadows appear in front of him, one either side of Lorne. The older Pylean senses them too, turning around and quickly dropping his hands away from Kylar's face.

It's the Ho'kio twins. And they're smiling. But not in a pleasant, friendly manner, more like in utter wickedness, their identical black eyes glinting with mischief and lust. Kylar doesn't know who they are but he can instantly sense that they mean trouble, their sexually predatory presence overwhelming and frightening to him.

"Who is this, Lorne?" The fully-male half of the pair is speaking, his low voice curious and attracted. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"No," Lorne answers frigidly, his heart starting to thump in unease. "Go away. We're trying to talk here."

"About what?" The slim-hipped hermaphrodite chimes in, sounding inquisitive.

"None of your business." With a cautioning hand on Kylar's shoulder, Lorne tries to keep the kid in the shadows but it's no use because the twins have excellent night-vision and can see for themselves exactly how gorgeous Kylar is and why Lorne would want to hide him.

"Ah, so THIS is the one you tried to turn us down for." Guessing the truth, the prettier demon brother leans in and tilts his head intently at Kylar, silken jet-black hair slipping over a pale shoulder banded with strips of leather. "We don't blame you, Host. He's…"

A pierced ebony tongue flicks out, slithering quickly across Kylar's smooth youthful cheek and then back again.

"…delicious."

Kylar can't move. He is frozen in shock and fright.

"Get away from him!" Shoving at the seductive whore's flat chest, Lorne stands defensively in front of Kylar, shielding him. "Don't you dare touch him again, bitch."

"Come now. We won't hurt him," the dominant Ho'kio entices in a deep, provocative purr, looking Kylar over as if he's a new toy. "We only want to play."

"He's not yours to play with."

"You won't share? Not even if we say please?" The transgendered twin hugs the bigger one around the waist, batting those eyelashes prettily and beguilingly at Lorne in a mock-begging gesture. "We could have a lot of fun together – me, you, my brother and your sweet little friend. The only thing better than a threesome is a foursome."

Lorne tightens his jaw, forcing words out through gritted teeth. "Shut your mouth."

"That's not what you said to me last night," the partially-female demon slyly replies, licking a pair of glossy black lips. "You tasted good, Host. Did you like the taste of me?"

"Did we wear you out enough?" The more masculine Ho'kio taunts Lorne, pulling his smaller sibling closer and suggestively stroking one narrow hip, very close to its groin. The androgynous creature emits a soft clicking hiss, baring petite fangs and rolling wantonly into the touch.

"Or would you like a repeat performance?" The larger male's glittering midnight eyes slide hungrily over Kylar's lean figure. "Perhaps with your boy watching us this time?"

Knowing that he's screwed (in a bad way), Lorne growls to both of them, "Back off, you ruthless pair of predators. You say one more thing and I will cut your fucking tongues out."

The demonic duo smirk at each other, not worried in the least. They know about the club's sanctuary charm and how everyone is safe from harm inside it.

"But you wouldn't do that. You like our tongues. I know you liked mine." The pretty one flickers it tauntingly at Lorne's face like a snake. "Especially when I slid it right up your-"

"I mean it!" Lorne snaps, pointing at the exit and ordering coldly, "Get the fuck out of here. Now. Or I'll have security throw you out."

"Fine, we know when we're not wanted," the muscular demon grants in disgruntlement, starting to draw his slender sibling away by the arm. "Come on, my twin. Let's go. Even the two of us combined cannot compete against a child of such colourful, captivating beauty."

"No, we can't," the dark-featured hermaphrodite resentfully returns, sparing a last envious glance at Kylar's rich burgundy lips, shiny berry-red hair and velvety violet-shaded eyes of crimson. "I hope you know how lucky you are, little spawn."

Pouting, the feminine-faced demon and his/her bulkier brother leave the club in cat-like strides, going to find another sex partner to satisfy their never-ending hunger.

Wiping his wet cheek with a shaking hand, Kylar now greatly regrets leaving the hotel. Lorne was right.

He never should have come here.

"Stay right there, mister," Lorne orders Kylar, jabbing a pointy finger to the spot as if it's a Naughty Corner. Kylar obeys, too shocked to move anyway. Or even to think. Pulling out his cellphone with a clenched jaw, the older Pylean calls one of his most trusted friends.

"Angel, it's me. Are you busy right now? Great – I need a huge favour. Can you come down to my club, collect Kylar and take him home for me? He's not supposed to be here." Lorne frowns as the vampire responds. "No, it's not your fault, Angel-cakes. You're weren't meant to be supervising him. He just snuck out on his own."

The short-haired Empath gives Kylar a chastising look and then sighs, rubbing his face in exasperation and weariness. "Okay, thanks. See you soon."

A firm hand on his arm, Lorne escorts Kylar to the front of the club where they wait for Angel's sleek black convertible. It arrives within minutes. The adults have a private word while Kylar gets into the back like a badly behaved child. He knows that if he was still a slave, this is the point where he'd get taken home, brutally beaten to within an inch of his pitiful life and locked up in chains without food or water. Instead, Lorne just leans into the car, quietly tells him to go back to the hotel with Angel and stay in his own room until Lorne gets back.

"We'll talk about this later, sweetie, okay?"

Kylar doesn't even answer, just turns his head away from Lorne's troubled gaze.

As Angel drives him home, the eighteen year old youth remains silent in the back seat. It's actually the first time he's been in a car but he barely notices or cares. Tears are rolling down his face. He doesn't seem to be aware that he's crying, just keeps numbly staring out at the passing city scenery, the breeze ruffling through his rippled hair. Looking in the rear vision mirror, Angel sees the boy's tears, quizzical and concerned about what's happened but he doesn't ask. It's not his place nor is it his business. It's between Lorne and Kylar. Being a dad himself, Angel knows how difficult it can be dealing with teenagers, although Kylar never struck him as the rebellious type before. Ah, well. It had to happen sooner or later. Lorne will just have to accept that Kylar is maturing and allow the boy room to grow, allow him to make mistakes and let him learn from them. No matter how much grief or angst Kylar's search for independence may cause, no matter how often they fight or argue, no matter how much they hurt each other with harsh words or actions, Lorne has to stay strong and continue loving the kid anyway.

Because that's what fathers do.

…

A couple of anxious hours later, Lorne returns back to the Hyperion. He doesn't want to face Kylar after all the shit that went down in the club but knows he has to. Heading upstairs with a stiff drink, he is alarmed to discover that Kylar isn't in his room. Using his Empath abilities to search the hotel, he can't locate Connor's aura either and comes to the conclusion that the two boys have gone out together. Without asking Lorne or telling him where they're going. Despite not being exactly thrilled by this, Lorne can identify with Kylar's rebellion; the boy is upset with him and wants to show that by running off in the middle of the night with his best friend to play defiant teenagers. Though Lorne is at least thankful that Connor is with Kylar and will protect him from harm, part of the older demon is extremely worried about Kylar's mental state, thinking that the kid shouldn't be out in public with all those unresolved emotions whirling about in his sensitive head.

Another more selfish part of Lorne is overwhelmingly relieved that Kylar is not there and they don't have to have that awful talk about what Lorne did with those Ho'kio brothers last night. He was an idiot to think Kylar wouldn't find out and should have just been honest with him this morning. Kylar still would have been hurt by the truth but at least he'd know that Lorne didn't lie to him. The lying is what has upset Kylar the most. And the boy has every right to feel that way. Nobody likes being lied to and Lorne shouldn't have done it, especially not in his position of responsibility and knowing all the trauma poor Kylar has been though in the past. Kylar's only just learned how to trust and Lorne has already shattered it, like stomping on a fragile-shelled bird's egg. But in spite of his green skin and horns, Lorne is still only a man and as everyone knows, men tend to make mistakes.

Big, huge, fucking stupid mistakes that he should have known better than to let happen in the first place. He shouldn't have let those manipulative black-eyed bastards seduce him. He should have been stronger and stood up to them, instead of giving in to their calculated caresses and poisonously alluring tongues. Any fond feelings he may have developed towards them vanished when they opened their treacherous mouths and blabbed. Hell, it's too late to do anything about it now. It's done, his dirty secret is exposed, and all Lorne can do is try to keep the fallout to a minimum. When Kylar gets back from the game parlour or wherever he's sulkily disappeared to, Lorne will sit him down for a long, painfully-truthful and embarrassing discussion about how guardians and parental figures aren't perfect and that sometimes they have adult needs which drive them to do silly things. Lorne isn't sure how much Kylar actually knows about sex but he ought to bring it up and sort out this issue so that it won't damage their relationship in the future. Kylar is a sweet, sympathetic kid. Over time (and with bucket-loads of apologies), he will surely come to understand and forgive Lorne for this one little incident.

Hopefully.

Unbeknownst to him, Kylar and Connor are not at a game parlour, nor are they at the movies. They are out hunting. As soon as Connor had returned from secretly seeing his boyfriend Sebastian for a bit of mid-week lovemaking, Kylar had gone to the auburn-haired slayer and declared that he was ready to hunt. That he wanted to put all his training to use, earn his keep and slay something. He said he was sick of sitting around while other people got to go out and do things. Sensing the anger seething inside the normally-peaceful young demon, Connor agreed to take Kylar on a search for vampires, knowing that the best way to release rage was to unload all those furious feelings into acts of violence. It might be crude but Connor knows from experience that it works. He's always much calmer after a kill. And by the looks of Kylar and his burning hell-red eyes, he needs some serious calming. The green-skinned teen won't tell Connor why he is so uncharacteristically angry, but Connor gathers that it must be Lorne's fault somehow because when he asks if Lorne is okay with them going hunting, Kylar curtly replies that he doesn't give a flying fig what his guardian thinks.

So, here they are in a seedier area down town known as a preferred vampire feeding ground, armed with stakes and keeping an eye out for any unusual activity or lurking figures. Although he's only ever killed once in his life, when he had no other choice, tonight Kylar is in the mood to do it again.

And this time he'll take great pleasure in it.


	9. Poison

A/N: Dedicated to the gorgeous Lauren! *hugs*

...

Part 9. Poison.

From their hidden position, crouched behind an overflowing dumpster crawling with cockroaches, Connor points. "There. Vampires."

"How can you tell?" Kylar peers at the three young women standing in the dim alley smoking cigarettes – a small one with long red hair and two blondes, all dressed in provocative evening wear. "They just look like all the other human females we've seen tonight. Are you certain they are not prostitutes?"

"No. These are different. They don't have any heartbeats." Knowing that Kylar can't possibly detect that with his underdeveloped hearing, Connor instead urges, "Use your senses, Kylar. What can you feel coming from them? Can you read their minds?"

Reaching out with his empathic powers, Kylar tries to touch their spirits and divine the nature of their thoughts but only finds a vacuum of empty, emotionless nothingness that chills him to the bone.

"You are right. They are completely lacking souls." As he peeks over the dumpster with widened crimson eyes, the demon teen is whispering anxiously, a small slice of fear knifing through his guts. "I am secreting quite a lot of adrenaline right now."

Connor grins. "That's normal. Means you're getting ready for the fight."

"But there are three of them and only two of us. The numbers are uneven!"

"Who says?" Angel's son motions to the pale-skinned redhead wearing a short skirt and black lace-up corset. "You take her and I'll take the other two. Sounds even to me."

Kylar still sounds dubious. "Are you sure we can kill all of them?"

"Totally," Connor breezes. "It'll be a piece of cake."

Wondering what cake has to do with slaying vampires, Kylar nevertheless places his faith in Connor's ability and prepares to do battle by his best friend's side. He gets handed a weapon and Kylar wraps his slightly trembling fingers around it, feeling chiselled, sharpened pine and smelling its woody scent. It reminds him of the forest he used to search for berries in and for a moment he wishes he was back there, in familiar territory, instead of in a dark, smelly alley with three blood-drinking killers disguised in human form.

"Just remember where their hearts are." Connor places the point of own stake over his chest, to the left, showing Kylar where to aim. "You gotta get it dead on, dude. If you miss, those sluts will rip your throat out."

Clenching his jaw, Kylar nods determinedly, forcing his fear back and allowing the fury he feels at being betrayed to take over again. He'll show Lorne that he's not some poor, pitiful victim who can't stand up for himself. He'll show Lorne that's he's not afraid of anything or anyone. He'll show Lorne that he's not weak, that he can be a warrior too. He came here to kill something, to prove his demonhood, and that's exactly what he's going to do.

"Don't miss the heart," he repeats grimly. "I got it."

"Good," Connor mutters, narrowing his eyes and gripping his own stake. "Let's go."

They both stand up and saunter into the alley, Connor with much more confidence than Kylar feels.

"Hello, ladies," the sarcastic teen says in a taunting tone. "Having a slumber party?"

Upon seeing him the girls' faces immediately turn vampiric, changing them from pretty to ugly. Their irises change to an unnatural yellowish hue that glows in the dark and their eyebrows disappear, replaced with a bald lumpy forehead much like Fredelia's bat-brow. Their teeth lengthen. The trio flick their smokes away and hiss at Connor, recognising him as the boy-slayer who's killed many of their friends. The redhead barks an order at the other two.

"Get him!"

The blondes instantly fly at Connor with their claws outstretched, hissing and attacking him both at once. Not caring that they're girls, the experienced male hunter fights them off with power-packed punches and body-kicks, knocking them to the ground but the vampires keep coming back with a vengeance, determined to dispose of their number one enemy.

Meanwhile, the one with the red hair walks right up to Kylar, who for some reason has frozen on the spot, stake held tightly in his white-knuckled hand. Her skin is as smooth and waxen as old china dolls, her chin-length bob as scarlet as freshly-spilled blood, matching the colour of her lips. Her breasts are pushed up enticingly by the tightness of her leather corset, nipples almost peeping out the top. Her eyes gleam like those of wildcats and she runs a pink tongue over the ivory points of her canine teeth. Kylar's common sense is telling him to move, to stab her in the chest which is completely exposed and vulnerable, but his body won't co-operate. He can barely even breathe.

Reaching him, the vampire stops and gazes at this slender, long-haired creature with its golden lip-jewellery, unsure if the ruby-eyed beauty before her is a girl or a boy.

"What ARE you?" The woman-vamp questions in wonder, looking at Kylar's olive complexion and delicate russet horns. "I've never seen a demon like you before. Where did you come from?"

Kylar can't reply. Those glowing yellow eyes almost have him hypnotised. It's the first time he's stared into the unmasked face of a true Van-tal and it's both terrible and mesmerizing. He cannot look away.

"Kill her!" Connor yells, wanting to help Kylar but unable to just yet, still battling the other two cold-blooded chicks trying to tear his face off with their fingernails. "The heart! Go for the HEART!"

Connor is yelling at him in a rather impatient manner but it's as though Kylar can't even hear the other boy. All he's focused on are those unholy eyes blazing into his, burning like fire but cold as arctic ice. The vampire-queen smiles with razor-sharp canines, speaking in a mockingly patronising tone.

"You won't kill me. I bet a pretty little thing like you couldn't hurt anybody, could you?" She leans in close and sniffs his hair, his neck, while Kylar stares frozenly straight ahead, as if caught in some kind of nightmarish bad dream that he can't wake up from.

"You smell sweet," the nocturnal night-dweller muses to herself. "I wonder if you taste sweet too…"

There are two pinpricks on the side of his throat and Kylar realises with absolute horror that she's biting him, sinking her unclean teeth into his soft green skin and letting his blood fill her hungry mouth. She moans in bliss and takes a few gulping swallows but then abruptly pulls away. Now it's her turn to stare at Kylar, her expression growing increasingly bewildered.

Unexpectedly, the vampire vomits all over the front of Kylar, soaking his chest and the clothes he's wearing. Most of it is Kylar's blood, bright red and fresh, but there are a few blackened chunks of older fluid – putrid and clotted. He feels droplets of it spraying onto his face and blinks reflexively but he still can't budge. As if she's been poisoned, the vampire girl violently heaves again, bent over double, another wave of foul-looking puke pouring from her mouth and splashing onto the ground near her feet. She is clawing at her belly, her face twisted into a mask of agony, too occupied retching up the fetid contents of her stomach to notice anything else going on around her.

"STAKE HER!" Connor roars furiously as he fends off the other two hell-bitches snarling and clawing at him. "JUST FUCKING STAKE HER, KYLAR!"

Hearing Connor screaming at the top of his lungs jolts Kylar and kick-starts him out of his hypnotic state. His brain is still in shut-down mode but after so many sessions of training with Angel and the rest of the gang, Kylar doesn't really have to think about what to do. His body remembers the moves and without a second thought, he lifts the sharpened stake above the vamp's bent back, bringing it down in both hands and jamming it as hard as he can between her left shoulder blade and her spine. The wooden spike carves though the layers of her skin, bones and muscles, deep into her dead flesh and lifeless heart.

She looks up in astonishment, yellow eyes surprised, her fanged mouth open. Before the redheaded vampire can even scream, she has exploded into a fine cloud of falling grey dust. There is an eerie, unearthly howling noise as her body swiftly decomposes, like the wail of rushing wind from a distant dimension. For a moment Kylar can clearly see the outline of her intact skeleton and skull, complete with fangs, and then it too crumbles and falls. The dust swirls away in the night breeze, leaving behind nothing of the bat-faced killer but puddles of bloody vomit on the ground.

She must have been the leader of the pack. Her demise distracts the other two vampires long enough for Connor to take them out, viciously staking the blondes between the breasts, one after the other and watching with grim gratification as their shrieking bodies dissolve into ash. Now that they're gone, he sheaths his weapon and rushes over to where Kylar is standing, the other boy looking utterly stunned, the stake still held in his clenched fist. Glistening gore soaks the entire front of his long-sleeved top and his neck is bleeding, red rivulets running down the side of his throat and into the hollow of his collarbone. Connor grabs him on the shoulder, trying to check out the wound but there's too much blood and hair sticking to it to assess the damage clearly.

"Shit, are you okay? You all right?"

Touching his punctured throat and then looking at the scarlet smears on his own fingertips, Kylar swallows nauseously.

"Now I know how my master felt when he was bitten by the viper."

Suddenly woozy, he drops the stake with a clatter and staggers sideways, on the verge of toppling over. Connor catches the shocked boy before he hits the pavement, carefully lowering his friend's slim frame to the ground. Resting Kylar's head in his lap, Connor swipes away sticky strands of wavy mulberry hair, peering anxiously down at the other young male. His golden lip-ring is stained scarlet. There are blood-splatters on Kylar's face and chin, as well as a river of it all down his chest. The Pylean teenager's complexion is deathly ashen and his eyes are dull and unfocused, beginning to roll back and show the whites. He's going to pass out.

"Kylar! Stay with me, man," Connor urges, ripping a sleeve off his own shirt and pressing it against the two round holes in the side of Kylar's neck.

Having witnessed exactly what carnage vampire fangs can do to flesh and veins, Connor's main concern is that the bite will keep spurting everywhere like it does on a normal person but when he lifts the cloth and wipes around the wound he sees that the bleeding from the two puncture marks has turned thick and sluggish, as if it's already clotting. With his enhanced senses, Connor detects the sound of Kylar's heartbeat altering. It's not weakening but slowing down, which in turns slows the blood flow around the teen demon's body. It's most likely a common survival trait of the Pylean race, something that helps the horned species endure the complete removal of limbs and enables them to live to a ripe old age far beyond that of humans.

Lifting Kylar's head up and moving his blood-soaked hair aside, Connor wraps the piece of fabric right around the other boy's throat a couple of times, fashioning it into a makeshift bandage. As the ends are tied securely and tightly, Kylar groans in pain, stirring in Connor's lap, his lashes fluttering as he squints up at his concerned blue-eyed friend.

"Am I…am I dying?"

"No. The bleeding is already starting to stop. You'll be fine," Connor assures him, attempting to wipe the gory mess off Kylar's face.

Tasting something awful and rotten in his mouth, Kylar rolls his head to the side and spits onto the ground, noticing a pink tinge to his saliva.

"I think I swallowed some of its blood." Realising what this could mean, Kylar's eyes grow large and scared. "Oh Gods. What if I turn into a Van-tal? What if I change and become evil? Will that happen to me?"

At the panicked query, Connor draws his brows together. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"I…don't know," the son of Angel finally has to admit. When it comes to humans, he knows exactly how the whole undead transformation takes place, regularly waiting by fresh gravesides for corpses to claw through the earth at dusk and rise again, but he's never seen a demon get bitten before and has no idea if they can actually be turned or not. Connor can't predict how Kylar's demonic system will react to the bite of a vampire, or its blood. He only has a vague notion that vamp blood and demon blood doesn't mix well and that must be why the yellow-eyed hell-bitch threw it up all over Kylar's clothes. If Kylar accidentally ingested some of the regurgitated fluid, it might have an adverse effect on him. Even if it doesn't turn him into one of them, it could still possibly poison the kid and make him very ill.

"My dad will know," Connor confidently announces. "If you are at risk of changing, he'll know how to stop it before the next sunset. There's probably a spell or magic potion or something you can take. Come on. Let's go home and get you fixed."

He helps Kylar to stand but the second youth's wobbly legs collapse underneath him. "I…I can't walk," he whimpers, clutching at Connor's arm.

"It's okay. I got you," Connor replies, quickly scooping the injured teen into his arms and beginning to carry Kylar in the direction of their hotel home, the sparse weight of the other boy barely even noticeable with Connor's supernatural strength.

"This is my punishment," Kylar mutters weakly, his head rolling limply against Connor's shoulder. "I took my master's life and now mine is being taken as retribution."

"You're NOT dying," Connor grits out. "And your 'master' deserved what he got for treating you that way. Don't you dare feel sorry for him!"

"This is my punishment," Kylar repeats, mumbling absently. "My punishment…"

By the delirious sound of his voice, Connor suspects that Kylar won't even remember any of this conversation when he recovers. He's looking alarmingly ashen, like he might faint from shock at any second.

Aiming to keep the kid talking and conscious, Connor asks, "So, what did Lorne do?"

Dazed and disoriented, Kylar blinks at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Before. What'd he do to piss you off so much? I know you're mad at him."

"Oh…that." The pretty boy-demon scowls unpleasantly as he remembers. "He had sexual intercourse. With twins."

"Twin sisters?" Slightly impressed, Connor raises his brow, wondering what that was like.

"No. Brothers." Kylar pouts. "Demons with raven hair, moonlight skin and eyes as black as sin. Lorne was supposed to come home and spend time with me last night and he didn't. He was with them. Mating."

At the news, Connor starts to frown. "Really? How do you know?"

"I went to Lorne's club earlier this evening, even though he told me not to, and the twins were there. They talked about what Lorne did with them, right in front of me, and they weren't even ashamed about it. It's like they wanted me to know, to brag so openly." Kylar's brow creases in disapproval. "They weren't very nice."

"Ouch. I'm sorry," Connor sympathises. "Finding out like that had to hurt."

"It did." In an indignant tone of betrayal, the wounded teenager questions, "Why would he do that, Connor? Why would he go to other demons when he could have had me? They must have been prettier than I am."

"I sincerely doubt that, Kylar. I've never seen any demons prettier than you."

"Or maybe it was their tongues. They had very long black tongues. One of them licked me on the face. It was slimy." Kylar screws his nose up at the memory. "I think they did things to Lorne with their tongues, too."

Also wrinkling his nose, Connor mutters, "Gross."

"Lorne said he had fallen asleep on his dressing room couch and that's not true at all." Being let down by his beloved guardian causes the teen's crimson eyes to well up with tears of disappointment. "He lied to me, Connor. I believed him and he…he lied."

All of a sudden, Kylar is crying into Connor's shoulder, his already unstable emotions enhanced by being attacked. As he carries Kylar's frail figure down the street, Connor tries to soothe his traumatised friend the best way he can, whispering words of comfort that Kylar probably doesn't even hear, the boy's sobbing raw and grief-stricken. Connor understands why Kylar is so distressed about Lorne's infidelity and it pisses him off that Lorne would do such a thing, but on the other hand, Lorne probably has no idea that Kylar feels this way about him. For an Empath, Lorne's actually not that perceptive. Connor has encouraged the other boy to tell Lorne of his feelings, to go kiss the guy or something but shy Kylar evidently hasn't done that or he wouldn't be bawling his eyes out right now.

Of course, being bitten and then thrown up on wouldn't make Kylar feel any better either.

"Dirty, stinking vampire whores," Connor swears to himself, feeling a mixture of disgust, rage and guilt. Kylar said he was ready to do this, to hunt, but Connor should have been more cautious. Kylar had spoken with emotion, not logic. Even with all his training, Kylar was unable to stop the attack before it happened. Even if he'd used his empathic abilities he wouldn't have succeeded. Vampires aren't animals. They can't be charmed. Only killed.

"My neck hurts," Kylar sobs miserably, starting to tremble in Connor's arms. "I want to go home. I want Lorne…"

"Hold on, Kylar," Connor coaches, speeding up his pace to almost-sprinting. "I'll get you there."

His heart pounding with adrenalized fear, Connor takes the semi-conscious teen through the shortcuts of back streets and alleys, cursing that they'd travelled so far from the hotel in their quest for a hunting ground. He has a feeling that most of Kylar's distress stems from being away from Lorne, that the shocked youth needs Lorne's familiar and calming presence. If anyone can soothe Kylar and calm him down, it'd be the other Empath.

Carrying his fragile cargo, Connor comes around a corner and nearly runs into two Goths exiting an underground bar, Connor having to pull up hard to avoid a collision.

"Get out of the goddamn way," he growls at the black-clad couple before roughly shoving past, Kylar's purple-red hair hanging over his arm in bloodied tangles.

"Look, brother! It's the spawn," a silken voice exclaims from behind. "The Lorne-spawn! I am sure of it."

Hearing Lorne's name, Connor stops still, his quick brain putting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Hey, boy," a deeper voice calls out, a strong hand grasping Connor's arm. "Who do you carry?"

In no mood to be touched, Connor turns his head and glares at the owner of the hand, a tall, long-haired demon twice the size of him, all muscled marble-white flesh and glittery black eyes.

"I'm no boy," Connor warns lowly, not afraid of the Ho'kio in the least. "Now, take your filthy hand off me before I rip your arm out of its socket."

"Apologies," the larger of the two demons concedes, removing his touch. "We are simply concerned about the child you are carrying. We know of him."

The couple that Connor almost knocked over are now at his sides, gazing down at the wounded youth in his arms. The demon that noticed Kylar first is slimmer and prettier but has the exact same crow-black hair and ebony eyes as his bigger companion.

"By the Powers…" The more feminine one breathes in dismay, staring at all the blood on Kylar's face and clothing. "What happened?"

"YOU happened," Connor returns accusingly. "You're those twins from Lorne's club, aren't you? Kylar told me about you two freaks."

"His name is Kylar?"

"Yeah, and he nearly got killed because of you. I hope you're fucking happy."

Normally he'd rip these guys apart for the trouble they caused but Kylar's rapidly deteriorating health is more important to him at the moment and so Connor starts striding away again, breathing hard through his nose in an effort to control his murderous impulses.

The semi-identical siblings glance at each other in confusion before starting to follow the furious auburn-haired teen. "We did this? How?"

"I don't have time to talk," Connor snaps without turning around. "He's gone into shock and if I don't get him back to Lorne soon, he could die. If that happens, you're both dead meat!"

Though they still don't understand how they caused this, the two brothers are alarmed by the green-skinned boy's unconscious, clammy-faced condition and feel compelled to do something.

"Wait – let us help. We know where Lorne lives and can give you a ride. It'll be much faster than walking."

Connor halts. "You have a car?"

"We have something better."

Turning around, Connor is just in time to witness the twins' secret mode of transport. They don't drive.

They fly.

The parchment-pale skin on each of their backs splits beside the shoulder blades and black membranes appear, glisteningly wet at first but rapidly drying in the night air. The spaced-apart strips of their leather outfits are placed in such a way so that their extra limbs can emerge freely without getting caught. They are like bat wings, veiny and thin, but are very flexible and wide, stretching in length as far as the demons stand tall.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Ignoring that taunt, Connor demands, "You know where the Hyperion Hotel is?"

"Yes," the pretty demon says. "We fly over it nearly every night. How do you know Lorne?"

"I live there too."

"Ah, you are the son of Angel, the vampire champion." The elegant twin's voice displays admiration. "We have heard of you. You are a vicious hunter."

"Well, then you know not to fuck with me," Connor returns flatly. "You – big one. Take him."

As instructed, the larger, stronger-looking Ho'kio steps forward and takes Kylar out of Connor's arms, cradling the wounded child to his broad, leather-crossed chest. He stretches his wings, preparing for flight.

"Be careful with him," is Connor's warning. "You hurt Kylar in any way, I'll rip your pointy ears off and wear them on a necklace."

The bigger male bows his head respectfully, not wanting to get on the savage slayer's bad side. He has heard stories of what this ordinary-looking boy has done and they're all gruesome and horrifying.

The prettier demon prepares to pick Connor up too but the half-human youth backs away in indignity. "No. You're not carrying ME like that. Like a girl."

Appearing irritated, the tall Ho'kio shifts the heel of his knee-high boot and cocks a hip, impatiently resting a long-nailed hand on it. "Look, I'm just trying to help you here, vampire-spawn. You wanna get home fast or not?"

Gaze narrowed, Connor eyes off those impressive-looking wings, debating how long it would take to fly back to the hotel, as opposed to running.

"Fine," he finally grants, stiffly standing there and allowing the other male to scoop him up, preparing to be humiliated. But instead of being picked up like a damsel in distress, the elf-eared demon just moves around behind him, slipping a pair of leather-wrapped arms around Connor's middle, lifting up off the sidewalk and flying away with him in a few powerful flaps, the bigger brother closely following with Kylar.

Connor tenses in alarm as he's rapidly brought up into the night sky with miles of empty air beneath him and the city lights below but it seems the effeminate demon has more than enough strength not to drop him, not unless it wanted to. Just to be safe, Connor hangs on tight anyway, digging his fingers into the pale pair of forearms around him. Though he is not being carried in a girly, emasculating way – rather, facing forward with his legs freely dangling down towards the ground - he's still held right against the pretty twin's flat chest, almost like a lover's embrace, and Connor can't help noticing how supple and strong that body behind him is. He can feel lithe muscles flexing with each flap of those widespread black wings, can feel strands of ebony hair whispering silkily across his cheek. The white flesh that his palms connect with is soft and smooth, a sensual contrast to the toughened animal hide banded around it. Most of all, Connor notices that the brunette twin smells really, really good – like sweet musk - and for the first time he understands how hard it would have been for Lorne to resist all this dark sexiness.

Maybe he'd even get turned on himself by being this close to such an androgynously seductive creature, if he wasn't so awfully afraid for Kylar and what the vamp's contaminated fang-bite might do to him. The Pylean teenager still hasn't regained consciousness, Kylar's head lolling loosely against the bigger twin's shoulder as he's carried through the air.

Following Connor's worried glance, the pretty demon remarks sympathetically, "You care about him a lot, don't you?"

"He's my best friend. Probably my only friend." Connor's answer is quiet and painfully honest. "I don't want to lose him."

"Tell me what happened, handsome Hunter," the raven-haired Ho'kio coerces softly next to Connor's ear, giving him an unwanted spine-chill. "Why are you so angry at us?"

"You slept with Lorne. That wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't told Kylar about it. You upset him and he was so mad he wanted to go out and kill a vampire. Only he wasn't ready for it and he got bitten."

"Why did it upset him?" The more muscular demon asks, overhearing the conversation and turning to frown at Connor. "Lorne said they weren't lovers."

"They're not. Yet. They probably would have been if Lorne wasn't busy having sex with you guys."

Comprehension dawns in the feminine twin's black-diamond eyes. "We stopped them from being together."

"Yeah." Connor stiffly gestures to Kylar's injury. "See how it's your fault now?"

"We are very sorry." The bulkier brother offers his apology in a low, deep tone. "We did not want this to happen to your friend."

"Well, it did. Maybe next time you'll think twice before opening your mouths and being assholes."

Suitably scolded, the twins are silent for the rest of the flight back, only occasionally glancing to each other in sombre, unspoken regret.

When they reach the hotel's courtyard, the Ho'kios descend and land on the front steps of the Hyperion, one carrying Connor and one carrying Kylar.

"Thanks," Connor mutters grudgingly as the pretty one lets him go. "That saved a lot of time."

Depositing Kylar back into Connor's arms, the bigger brother queries, "Is there anything else we can do to help?"

Connor glares ice-blue daggers at both of them. "Yeah, you can get the fuck out of here and never come back."

"We really are sorry," the girlish twin insists but Connor is already taking Kylar's passed-out figure inside the hotel's glass doors. The young slayer lays his friend down on the lobby lounge and yells urgently for help.

It takes exactly one minute for all hell to break loose inside the hotel, especially when Lorne appears and sees his beloved Kylar covered in blood. His cocktail goes crashing to the floor while everyone else rushes out of their rooms in panic, Fred and Cordelia still in their pyjamas. There's a lot of shouting and screaming, most of it from a near-hysterical Lorne and the rest from an angry Angel, Connor's defensive answers and protests interspersed between the two. He hastily explains what happens, insisting to his father and the older Empath that he wasn't trying to get Kylar killed, that Kylar actually asked to go hunting himself. Roaring, Lorne lunges at Connor and attempts to strangle him. Connor shoves Lorne into the front of a cabinet, smashing the glass doors. Angel, Wesley and Gunn try to separate the two and diffuse the volatile situation before someone gets killed while the girls administer first aid to Kylar, checking his wound and trying to make him respond. He's breathing but not conscious.

"Guys, we need help here!" Fred shrieks. On the lounge, Kylar's slim body has started cramping with uncontrollable seizures, his breaths coming in rapid, shallow pants. His eyes have rolled back and his skin shines with icy sweat. The site of the injury has worsened and festered, dark green veins spreading out from it and crawling over Kylar's throat like a network of poisonous ivy. Never having seen a reaction to a vampire bite like this before, everybody stops fighting and pulls together, doing anything they can to help save the former slave-boy that they've all grown to love. Placing his mouth over the ugly wound, Angel tries to suck the vampiric venom from the puncture marks, knowing it won't affect him in any way, spitting out any bad blood he can taste. Although, it all tastes bad to him. Wesley frantically searches old books for possible treatments and cures while Gunn firmly holds the convulsing youth down on the couch, trying to control Kylar's violent spasms. As the others are working to stabilise his condition, Lorne is holding Kylar's hand, unwilling to let go. Every time Kylar is stuck with a spine-twisting seizure, his small fingers clamp tightly around Lorne's, nails digging in hard, but it is just an involuntary muscular contraction.

Seeing his beautiful boy in such pain, Lorne feels utterly, utterly helpless.

The demon doctor who previously visited Kylar is summoned once again and with the help of a transporting spell he appears in instants, authoritatively instructing the others in what to do while he jabs Kylar's neck with various drugs and potions, many of them probably not legal. He gives Kylar something that makes him throw up, purging any undead blood that may be in his gut. If demon blood can poison vampires, then perhaps vampire blood can poison demons too. Even after he vomits, Kylar doesn't improve. They try to make him drink warmed milk to counteract any toxins lingering in his stomach-lining but his throat is too tight to swallow. He just grows colder and colder, his pulse weakening.

They carry him upstairs and put him fully-clothed in a hot bath, needing to increase his chilled temperature. Kylar is shivering so badly that his teeth are chattering and water splashes out onto the floor. Tapping into the Divine, Cordelia uses her glowing power in an attempt to cleanse the ill child of contamination, both physical and spiritual. Kneeling by the tub, Fred keeps sponging Kylar's face and washing his neck with salt water, trying to clean out the wound, her dark eyes huge with worry.

Through it all, Lorne never leaves Kylar's side and keeps the boy's limp hand held in his own, the elder Pylean mentally attempting to connect with Kylar and assure him that everything will be all right.

"_I'm here, Kylar-cakes_," he telepathically sends, over and over, desperately trying to stay strong for the kid. "_I'm right here beside you, baby. Don't you leave me!_"

Lorne can't see or hear anything in Kylar's mind except for an agonised haze of fever and shock but he hopes Kylar can somehow sense him there.

Connor is outside. Knowing that he can't do anything right now to help, the distraught young hunter sits in the corridor, back to the wall, hugging his knees and letting the tears flow silently down his face.

Kylar can't die. He just can't. Connor's not sure if there are gods in this dimension or any other but he prays to one anyway, wanting and needing his best friend to live.

...

A/N: Sorry for the evil cliffy! . I had to end it there... But on a good note, I has super-cool-awesome fanart from my wonderful friend Lauren who created Kylar in a sexy shirtless 3D image! If you love Kylar, then you HAVE to see this! Go here: flickr(dot)com/photos/rosey_faith/6808333871/

If link doesn't show, then go to flickr's main site and search for user: rosey_faith Kylar will be there in all his green glory! Don't forget to tell us what you think of him in 3D ^^


	10. Healing

A/N: Due to the overwhelming lack of comments to my last update, I assume that you all are majorly upset with me for poisoning Kylar and are not speaking to me anymore! I am very sorry and I hope this chapter makes you forgive me :P This one's for my biggest fan, Lauren. *hearts* Also thank you to Demoness-Sugar for the support and for liking the twins almost as much as I do ;)

Part 10. Healing.

Waiting for any news about Kylar, it seems like forever to everyone anxious about him but probably only an hour or two passes. The doctor keeps working on the sick boy, trying out every scrap of medical knowledge in his large demon brain.

Eventually, thanks to his efforts or simply due to Kylar's own innate healing system, the teenager's condition improves - his heartbeat and breathing returning to a normal, non-threatening level. The painful spasms cease and his muscles relax. His skin turns warm again and the insidious-looking dark green veins disappear from his throat, leaving two small, harmless-looking puncture marks that are already beginning to heal. When the doctor declares Kylar to be stable and in a drug-induced sleep, Fred and Cordelia shoo all the male folk out of the bathroom so they can properly bathe the eighteen year old youth and change his blood-stained clothes, the two young women intending to lift his light frame into bed so he can rest and recover.

It's hard for Lorne to let go of Kylar's hand but he finally has to do it, sensing that the kid doesn't need him any longer and just needs a good, long nap to remove the debilitating effects of the vamp-venom that invaded his body. Kylar looks so small and frail lying there all wet in the bathtub with his eyes closed like a half-drowned kitten but Lorne knows that the teen is in capable, caring hands and that Fred and Cordelia will call if anything happens. Giving the bathroom door one last apprehensive look, Lorne leaves and goes out into the corridor, where Connor is. The auburn-haired slayer is still sitting on the floor in the same position, hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knees, staring off into the distance.

Without looking up, Connor asks, "How is he?"

"Sleeping," Lorne answers tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The doctor says the infection or poison – whatever it was - has been neutralised and he should be fine."

"That's great," is Connor's mumbled answer, although inside he breathes a massive sigh of relief.

"Yeah." The older demon sighs too. "He really had us worried there for a while."

Even through the walls, Lorne can empathically detect Kylar's aura growing stronger. Pyleans are an extremely resilient race which is how Kylar survived being the farmer's punching bag and whipping boy for two years. That sort of torture would have caused the death of a human child but Kylar's body healed itself then and is already healing now.

"I have to apologise for freaking out back there and trying to choke you." Lorne sounds humble and embarrassed, now that the panic is all over. "I just didn't know what was going on."

In an apathetic monotone, Connor replies dully, "Don't worry about it."

Lorne can tell that the kid has been crying.

"Connor, I don't blame you," he says softly. "I know you care about Kylar and would never deliberately put him in danger."

"But I did." Connor sounds angry at himself. "I should have known better than to take him hunting. He wasn't ready. He was too emotional to think straight."

"That's my fault," Lorne admits. "I'm the one who upset him."

"Because you fucked the twins when you were supposed to be with him?" Connor cruelly retorts, switching the responsibility back to the older Pylean, just to have someone else to blame for this disaster. "He waited for you and you ignored him. How could you do that, Lorne?"

The Empath swallows sickly. "Kylar told you."

"Yeah, he did. A couple of guys in tight leather offered you sex in your dressing room and you took it, just like the cheap whore you are." The supernatural slayer grits his jaw angrily. "I hope it was fucking worth it."

Thinking that it really, really wasn't, Lorne slides down the wall next to Connor, his legs weak and his guts all twisted up into painful knots of despair.

"What have I done?" he groans, face-palming. "Because of that one stupid night, Kylar will never forgive me and he'll never trust me again. Oh God, I'm the worst guardian ever! He deserves so much better than me…"

Seeing how awfully guilt-stricken Lorne is, Connor starts to regret his harsh words, particularly when they've made a truce and are supposed to be getting along.

"Sorry. Didn't mean what I said."

Lorne shakes his head miserably. "No, you're right. I'm disgusting and pathetic."

"Not completely." Angel's normally strong-willed son picks at a hole in the knee of his jeans. "I met them. I get it."

Lorne's eyes slide sideways towards the other boy. "You met the twins?"

"Yeah. Tonight. Don't worry; I didn't kill them, even though I felt like it." Talking about the raven-haired brothers and their almost irresistible dark allure, Connor confesses, "I can see why you'd do what you did."

Glad that someone else feels their mystical magnetism too, Lorne nevertheless objects, "But I shouldn't have. I should have gotten the hell away from them."

"Probably." With reluctance, the teenager concedes, "But it's not really my place to say anyway. It's your life. You can do what you want."

When it all boils down, the simple fact of the matter is: Lorne and Kylar aren't even together. They're not married and they're not in an exclusive relationship so technically, Lorne can sleep with anyone he chooses. Now, if it were Connor, he would have chosen Kylar over a couple of slutty demon brothers any day. Kylar is something really special. But maybe that's the problem, the auburn-haired hunter contemplates, thinking of Kylar's beautiful tear-streaked face with a strange pang in his heart.

Maybe Lorne thinks Kylar is TOO special to be treated that way and that's why he won't take Kylar to bed, despite his obvious attraction to the green-skinned teen. Maybe he is afraid of hurting the former slave-child or ruining the pure innocence of his nature and so Lorne chose to slake his adult sexual desire on more experienced partners who wouldn't be affected. As much as it pains him to admit it, Connor can see the whole scenario from Lorne's point of view too and that's why he can't hate the older Pylean too much for what he's done. Lorne was probably only trying to protect Kylar.

Just like Connor tried to tonight, except they both failed and Kylar got hurt.

"He killed it. The vampire, I mean."

"Who?"

"Kylar. I was trying to tell you that but you were too busy yelling at me," Connor mutters. "There were three of them. Females. I killed two and he got the other one. The one that bit him."

Lorne blinks, reeling with the unexpected and shocking news. He just assumed Connor took care of the vampire. Not gentle, innocent Kylar who couldn't squash an ant even if it was stinging him. Deep down, despite all the training, he wasn't sure Kylar could do it, could kill again. It seems Lorne was wrong.

"After he did that, he kinda had a meltdown," Connor furthers, recalling the unbalanced range of Kylar's emotions. "He cried over you, Lorne. Just thought you should know."

Well, that makes Lorne feel even shittier.

"Going out," the boy-slayer announces, pushing up off the floor and stretching his aching muscles. "If Kylar wakes up, tell him…"

Connor's gaze goes hard, his voice lifeless and flat. "Tell him that he doesn't have to be friends with me anymore. If he keeps hanging around me, he'll probably just end up dead."

After that depressing statement, the moody teenager runs downstairs and slams the lobby door.

What's ironic is that if it wasn't for Connor, Kylar probably wouldn't have survived this night at all. Connor brought him back home and because of that Kylar was able to get the medical help he needed. If the demon teen had gone out hunting by himself and fought three vampires on his own…who knows what would have been the gruesome outcome? He could potentially survive blood loss or even having all his limbs ripped off, as his and Lorne's species can rejoin severed parts back together, but if the vamps had mutilated his body or scattered the pieces Kylar would not have been saved.

Feeling oddly numb, Lorne sits there in the carpeted hallway for a while. Sure, he can blame himself for what happened, he can blame Connor or the damn hell-bitch that sunk her blood-thirsty fangs into Kylar's throat but it doesn't matter right now.

Kylar is alive. He's alive and he'll be okay and that's the most important thing. Realising how dangerously close he came to losing the boy he loves more than life itself, Lorne curses, dropping his horned head into his hands and beginning to sob.

Angel appears to sit with him and puts his arm around Lorne's shaking shoulders, the sympathetic vampire not saying anything, just supporting Lorne and letting him cry it all out.

…

From outside the third-floor hotel window, two winged creatures have been hovering in mid-air, watching the life-or-death drama with solemnly glittering gazes, shroud-like raven hair floating in the breeze.

"Do you think the delicate spawn will be all right, brother?"

"I hope so. Otherwise we'll have one pissed hunter after our heads."

"But we didn't mean for any of this to happen." Wings slumping, the narrow-hipped hermaphrodite sighs, not used to experiencing guilt over anything they've done. "Being evil is supposed to be fun. This was not fun at all."

"Do not fret, my love." The second male cups his sibling's cheek, tenderly kissing three identical ink-blot birthmarks on a rumpled forehead. "Kylar will be well taken care of. There's nothing more we can do."

"Lorne will hate us."

"Lorne is incapable of hating anybody. He has a compassionate heart and a soul made of kindness. In time, he will forgive us for what we did."

"I wish I could believe you, brother."

Sensing that his normally-tough twin needs a little comfort, the bigger Hokio links their fingers together. "There is no point hanging around here feeling sorry for ourselves. Let's just go home and make ourselves feel better, hmm?"

A longing look is exchanged. "Yes, let's do that."

And then, with great shadowy sweeps of their huge membranous wings, the Ho'kio demons depart the side of the Hyperion Hotel, rising hand-in-hand into the city sky and disappearing.

…

Also in need of comforting, Connor leaps off the rooftop of the moving city bus, letting his free ride turn a corner while he runs down a suburban street, scales a seven foot high fence with sharp spikes on the top and drops down into somebody's back yard. Seeing that the light is on, he goes up to the bedroom window, smacking his flat palm against it a few times, trying not to break the glass in his agitation. The curtains part and a curious face peers out before the window is quickly opened.

"Hey! What an unexpected surprise. Come on in, sugar." A tall, curly-haired male with tanned skin helps the younger boy climb inside, seeming undaunted that Connor didn't use the front door like normal people would. Once inside, Connor stands there with a blank expression, arms hanging limply by his sides, avoiding eye contact and staring at the floor. Noticing that the young hunter is desperately trying to hold himself together, the older man frowns and takes him by the shoulders.

"What's wrong, gingerbread? Did something happen?"

At the caring tone, Connor starts shaking. His tear-filled blue eyes lift up to concerned green ones.

"It's Kylar. He…he nearly died," Connor chokes out in a trembling voice, trying to explain. "We were hunting and he nearly got killed and it would have been all my fault."

Then his face crumples like tissue paper and Connor jerkily steps forward into the other man's embrace, clinging to him and sobbing against his chest.

"Oh, my poor darling," the first guy whispers in dismay, holding Connor's thin figure close and laying kisses into his coppery hair. "You let it all out, honey. You give it all to me. Seb's gonna take care of you, all right?"

The two boyfriends stand there hugging tightly, one crying helplessly, the other soothing and supportive. For once, Connor doesn't have to be the strong one.

Somehow, with Sebastian's loving arms around him, he knows that everything will be okay.

…

While Kylar is resting in his own bed, everyone else gathers in Lorne's room, discussing the night's dramatic happenings. They can't go back to sleep now, not after all the excitement and uncertainty.

"So, is the little green dude gonna be all right?"

Wesley nods at Gunn. "It appears so. The doctor believes Kylar was suffering from a rare form of blood toxicity but it appears to have been brought under control and eliminated."

"Are you sure Kylar can't turn into a vampire?" Fred asks concernedly in her Texan drawl. "Because that would be simply awful, seeing a cute little thing like that turn into something horrible and nasty like…like Spike!"

"No, it's impossible," Angel firmly states. "Vampires are essentially demons that have taken over and inhabited human bodies. Since Kylar is already a demon, there's no way he can be changed. I've been around for two hundred years and I've never seen a demon turn into one."

Lorne is slumped on his couch, lethargically puffing on a cigarette and simultaneously drinking gin and tonic, without the tonic. He usually goes outside to smoke but he's too emotionally drained to move and if people are offended by it, they can damn well leave his bedroom. He didn't invite them; they just gathered there, since his room is the closest to Kylar's. They're all sitting on his bed, Lorne only half listening to the conversation going on around him.

"It's highly unusual - almost unheard of, in fact - for a vampire to feed off another demon," Wesley Windham-Price explains in his British accent. "This is an extraordinary case, indeed."

"Demon blood is like poison to us," Angel explains. "It makes us severely ill."

"Then why did one try to take a chunk outta Kylar?" Gunn questions, confused.

"Newbies, probably. Young vampires are stupid, especially if they have no sire to guide them or teach them." Connor's father shrugs his shoulder. "They probably just didn't know."

"Or maybe Kylar's appearance was just too enticing," Wesley guesses.

"What are you saying?" Charles Gunn creases his dark brow. "You mean, our boy was just too pretty for the vampire to resist?"

"Possibly," the English historian muses, thinking of Kylar's decidedly feminine facial features. "Vampires are attracted to beautiful things. Perhaps she thought Kylar would taste as good as he looks."

They all glance to Lorne for his reaction but he's just sightlessly staring into his drink, still in shock over the evening's unexpected events.

"Connor shouldn't have taken that poor child out with him," Fred says unhappily. "He shouldn't have made Kylar go hunting."

"But isn't that why we've been training him? So he CAN hunt?"

"Gunn's right," Wes seconds with a serious expression on his stubbled face. "I'm sorry Kylar got bitten but at least he knows what it's really like out there and can be better prepared for future attacks. He might be small but I believe he's sufficiently capable of defending himself, even if he didn't do that tonight."

"He did defend himself," Cordelia quietly joins in, the brunette female having been silent all this time, weary after using her white-light powers to help the demon teen. "When I was trying to glow all the toxins out of him, I saw what happened. It was all there in Kylar's head."

Everyone else stares interestedly at her, wanting to hear what really went down earlier. Tucking her bobbed brown hair behind one ear, Cordelia continues.

"Connor told him he didn't have to hunt but Kylar insisted on going. He wanted to prove himself. As he was facing the vampire with the stake in his hand, he knew what to do but when the moment came, he couldn't move. He couldn't kill her."

"Why not?" Wesley asks, tilting his head curiously.

"He was scared. He didn't want to become a murderer again."

"Aw, poor baby," Fred sympathises, making a sorrowful face at how traumatised Kylar must have felt.

"There's a difference between murder and self-defence," Angel points out. "Trust me, I know. When I was Angelus - when I was evil - I killed many innocent people. Their deaths haunt me to this day. They did nothing wrong; I just killed them for pleasure. But Kylar acted out of self-defence when he killed his master. It was the only way he could be free."

"And from what I've heard, the fucker deserved it, no question," Gunn stalwartly replies, lifting his chin. "Killing a vamp isn't murder either. They have no souls."

"Except for Angel but he's special." Fred smiles and touches the immortal man's arm in a fond fashion. Angel smiles back, but sadly, still feeling bad for everything he's done in his two centuries of existence.

"The only good vamp is a dead vamp," the black male of the group declares, making a staking motion with his fist. "Kill 'em before they kill you. That's my motto."

"You said Kylar defended himself," Wes interrupts, looking to Cordy. "Was that after he was bitten?"

Nodding, Cordelia confirms, "When the vampire was puking up his poison blood, Kylar got his wits back and did what you guys taught him to do. He staked the bitch and watched her turn into dust."

"Way to go, Ky! Respect," Gunn exclaims in admiration, even though the youth is sleeping in another room and can't hear him. He looks around at the rest of the gang with a white-toothed grin of eagerness. "We so gotta give that kid a celebration ceremony or somethin' when he wakes up, yo."

"You mean a party?" Fred blurts, her eyes lighting up at the thought of cake and balloons.

"Hells yeah! Haven't had one of those in ages. It's okay ain't it, Angel?" Gunn queries.

"Sure." The owner of the hotel nods his consent. "Just don't advertise it on Myspace. I don't want five hundred teenagers turning up and trashing the place."

Gunn's eyebrows rise, making his bald scalp wrinkle. "You actually know what Myspace is?"

"Hey, I'm not THAT ancient!"

"I hope we're not going to play Spin the Bottle at this party," Wesley says apprehensively. "We all remember how terribly that went last time…Angel nearly ate us all and I turned back into a clumsy nerd!"

Giggling, Fred suggests, "Maybe we can play Pin the Fangs on the Vampire, instead of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. You know, make it a themed party? Oh, and we could have blood-coloured punch!"

"Only if it has vodka in it," Gunn declares.

"But Kylar's only eighteen!"

"So? Kid can't get drunk anyway."

"While you're all busy making party plans, I'm gonna go check on him," Cordelia announces, getting up to make sure the teen demon is still okay in the other room. He's on the bed knocked out on prescription-strength painkillers, his pet bat nestled in his hair, staying close to Kylar while he sleeps. The small grey marsupial had been quivering in the curtains earlier, terrified that her dearly-loved master was dying. But he's all right now. Cordy pulls up a chair and keeps watch over him, just in case.

As everybody else chatters excitedly about Kylar becoming a man and making his first kill (and the best drinking games to celebrate that with), Lorne's eyelids get heavy, almost as though Kylar's deep, drugged slumber is affecting him too. He soon falls asleep on the couch. Taking his empty glass and smouldering cigarette butt away, Fred covers him with a blanket, lightly kissing the exhausted Empath on the forehead. They usually make fun of Lorne for his slothful sleeping habits and late rising patterns but tomorrow he can sleep in as long as he likes. And so can Kylar. They deserve it.

It's been one hell of a night for both of them.

…

In the morning, Wesley comes into Lorne's room, gently shaking the older demon by the shoulder to rouse him. Lorne cracks his bleary red eyes open, feeling strangely hung-over.

"Good morning, Lorne!" Wes says in a voice far too chipper for this time of the day. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit on a sidewalk," Lorne mumbles, groggily sitting up on the couch and scratching at his messed-up hair, squinting against the brightness as Wesley goes about cheerily opening the velvet drapes covering the windows. "How's Kylar?"

"He's awake and he seems perfectly normal," the other man tells him with a reassuring smile. "We tested him with sunlight, a cross and with holy water. He's shown no signs of developing vampirism, or any other ill effects from the bite."

"Thank God," Lorne sighs with relief, sagging back against the lounge.

"He's been asking about you."

Lorne looks up. "He has?"

"Yes. You can go visit him," Wesley offers. "He's just finishing breakfast in bed."

Nodding in gratitude, the Pylean replies, "I will. Thanks for the wake-up call."

"You're welcome." Smiling again, the Englishman leaves. Hopping into the shower to freshen himself up, Lorne is overwhelmingly relieved to have heard the good news. If Kylar's up and eating then he really IS okay and back to normal. Although deep inside, Lorne knows he'd still love the boy even if Kylar did grow fangs and develop a taste for human blood. After all, there's already one vampire in the hotel – what's another?

Lorne would've still taken care of him and been Kylar's guardian and protector, just during the daytime, so nobody could stake him or open the curtains accidentally. He would have darkened Kylar's room with block-out drapes and bought him a special light-proof enclosed bed to sleep in. He would have gotten new black vampy clothes for the boy and let him dye his hair or pierce his face anywhere he wanted. Lorne would have even mixed up blood-cocktails for Kylar – anything to keep the kid happy, regardless of what kind of creature he was. It would have just been like having Kylar turn Goth.

But he has not changed. Lorne's senses tell him that he's still the same sweet-natured, kind-hearted young man he's always been. Kylar is sitting up on the bed, his pet bat on his shoulder looking anxious and sniffing his cheek concernedly, the teen's slim fingers stroking her grey fur in reassurance. When she sees Lorne entering the room Fredelia immediately goes on the defence, trying to protect her owner by squeaking loudly and flying threateningly at the intruder, attempting to drive him away.

Lorne ducks, swearing in alarm at the surprise attack.

"Fredelia, enough," Kylar softly commands, the small bat resentfully obeying and flapping over to hang upside-down in the curtains and sulk.

"Do not mind her," the boy says apologetically. "She is simply worried about me."

"She's not the only one," Lorne answers, straightening up and focusing on the younger demon. "How are you feeling, my special little kiwi-fruit?"

"Fine." Kylar shyly meets Lorne's gaze. "Thank you for enquiring."

"Are you sure? I mean, it's not every day you get attacked by a savage, blood-sucking night-crawler." Lorne perches anxiously on the edge of the bed. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, honey-cake. It's all my fault."

"No, Lorne! You mustn't blame yourself," Kylar immediately protests. "I take sole responsibility for my own actions. I got bitten because I hesitated. 'A true warrior never hesitates.' That's what Angel told me during training and I should have listened more closely to his advice."

"Are you really sure you're all right?" Lorne asks again, wondering how much of last night Kylar remembers, if anything at all. "Does your neck hurt?"

"It doesn't. Please do not concern yourself - the wound is just a small one. I have survived far worse injuries, trust me."

Now that the side-effects of being bitten have worn off, Kylar looks noticeably better, his colour back to normal - a healthy green instead of ashy grey. His blood-stained clothes have been replaced with clean pyjamas and his face, neck and sticky hair have been washed and dried, thanks to Cordelia and Fred's diligent sponging and towelling off. He doesn't even appear injured, except for the band-aid on his neck. He is one very, very lucky kid. It's fortunate that the vampire was only tasting him. If she'd actually been trying to kill Kylar, she would have torn his whole throat out but all he's left with from the attack are two puncture wounds that barely need covering. Lorne hates the fact that Kylar got hurt at all but he also knows the bite won't take long to be fully repaired.

However, the nasty incident at Caritas with those trouble-making Ho'kio brothers could leave lasting lesions on the kid's sensitive psyche if Lorne doesn't straighten out that whole dreadful mess and make amends for what he did.

"Sweetie, we need to talk," Lorne hesitantly ventures. "Why did you really go out hunting last night? Was it because you wanted to prove yourself? Or was it because you were angry with me?"

The boy drops his eyes. That's all the answer Lorne needs.

"Kylar, about what those demons said back at the club…"

"You were with them that other night. I know." Before Lorne can even begin to explain, Kylar quietly adds, "You do not have to tell me anything. Your personal life is private and is not my concern."

If that's true then why does Kylar look so wounded and betrayed? He's trying not to show it on the outside but Lorne's empathic senses can keenly feel the boy's pain and sadness.

"You were waiting for me and I let you down. Didn't I?"

Kylar doesn't answer at first, just chews on his lip-piercing and keeps his gaze on the floor.

"Yes," he eventually whispers. "You did."

Those three little words are like arrows straight to Lorne's chest. They hurt, but not as much as Kylar is hurting. Nowhere near it. He'd like to say he was incredibly tired and that's why he let the twins have their way with him but that's not good enough. Tired or not, Lorne still slept with the twins of his own free will and it was he who disappointed Kylar and broke the boy's fragile trust. Any explanations he tries to give will only sound like excuses and Kylar deserves better than that. Lorne was the one who fucked up and he needs to take ownership of his mistake.

"I did a very bad thing," he admits honestly to the boy. "I hurt you and I lied to you and I'm sorry."

After a pause, Kylar nods wordlessly, acknowledging Lorne's apology but not quite accepting it yet.

"Sugar-drop, you know how much I care for you," Lorne says pleadingly. "Don't you?"

Another small nod.

"Well, I do. I care about you more than anything on this Earth," the older Pylean swears, trying to make Kylar see how much he means it. "You're the most important thing to me in my life, Kylarkmar. Not my club. Or anybody in it. Not money, or fame or fortune. Just you."

Lorne moves closer, an earnest expression on his face. "I know I've failed in my care-giving duties but if you give me another chance, I'll spend it earning your trust back and proving that I'm worthy enough to be your guardian. Please give me another chance, Kylar. Please?"

Lifting his eyes, Kylar finally looks at him.

"Those twins were evil, weren't they?"

"Yeah. Spawns of hell, all right," Lorne mutters in agreement. "Ho'kio demons are sly and seductive. It's their nature. I knew that and I should have known better than to fall for their tricks."

"But they're very beautiful," Kylar mentions, understanding how Lorne could be seduced by them.

"Not as beautiful as you, butterfly. Not in a billion dimensions," the taller man promises, slipping his arm around the mulberry-haired boy. "They are black and white. You are like a glorious, gorgeous rainbow and you light up my whole world."

A sad little smile ghosts across Kylar's mouth. The gold ring that decorates his lower lip gleams like a glimmer of hope. Sensing that he is almost forgiven, Lorne pulls the teen closer, planting a regretful kiss on his temple, near one of his dainty horns.

"I'm so, so sorry for hurting you, Kylar. I won't ever do anything like that again," he vows with pained hoarseness. "You mean everything to me and I adore you too much to risk losing you."

Though he knows Lorne speaks the truth, Kylar remains silent, his throat too choked up to utter an acceptance.

There is a minute of complete silence.

Not knowing what else to say, Lorne starts singing. After all, he owes Kylar a song.

"_Sometimes I wonder if I'd ever make it through…Through this world without having you - I just wouldn't have a clue_," he melodiously begins, soft and hesitant at first and then gradually gaining strength and conviction. "_'Cause sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me, and there's no way of breaking free…And then I see you reach for me…_"

Bad English – one of Lorne's favourite 80s rock bands. This song was one mighty power-ballad back in the day, and still is in Lorne's opinion. Even without the piano and backing track, it perfectly sums up the way he feels about Kylar being in his life.

"_Baby, there's nothing in this world that could ever do what the touch of your hand can do. It's like nothing that I ever knew. And when the rain is falling I don't feel it,  
'cause you're here with me now,_" he sings with emotive passion, resting his cheek on top of Kylar's head and lovingly squeezing the boy as he continues to sing, knowing every single word by heart.

"_It's all I'll ever need. All I'll EVER need…_"

At the depth of tenderness and caring in those lyrics, Kylar lets all the pain go, like dried leaves in the autumn wind. He leans into his handsome guardian, soaking up the superb sound of Lorne's voice as well as the closeness and fond feelings that Lorne is giving him, the older male's arms warm and safe. When Lorne holds him like this, and sings such wonderful words, Kylar isn't afraid of anything. Especially not some pale-skinned succubi with gleaming black eyes and tongues like hissing serpents. Lorne may have rutted with them once but Kylar believes the other Pylean when he says it won't happen a second time. Lorne's regret is too excruciatingly sincere. But he is most certainly repairing the damage with this heart-warming love-sonnet.

"_When I see you smile, I see a ray of light…Oh, I see it shining right through the rain. When I see you smile…I can face the world. Oh, you know I can do anything."_

At last, Lorne finishes up softly. _"Baby, when I see you smile at me…"_

Kylar is definitely smiling once the song is over. Though a few teardrops of overpowering emotion have escaped and dripped down his cheeks unheeded, he has been smiling for the greater part of it. No matter what else is happening, Lorne's singing makes all seem right with the world. It strengthens Kylar and gives him hope, restoring his confidence and optimism, the crimson-eyed boy absolutely certain that his life with Lorne will be a bright, happy one and that everything will work out exactly the way it's supposed to. He believes that the best things come to those who are patient and place their trust in the Powers That Be because the Powers are wise and have a plan for everybody. For each bad thing that has happened to Kylar, he will be rewarded one hundredfold and if he keeps his heart pure and full of love, all the happiness he's ever wanted will finally be his. He believed that back on Pylea and he still believes it now. His faith in that future is too strong to shatter, as is his faith in Lorne. He proves this by embracing the elder male around the middle, Kylar hugging Lorne like he never wants to let go.

"Krevlornswath?" Kylar whispers some time later.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Who?"

"The twins. When you were with them, did they hurt you in some way? Is that why you were hostile towards them last night?"

Lorne can't believe it. After everything he's put Kylar though, the caring kid is actually concerned about what might have been done to HIM.

"Oh no, honey. Not at all. They - I mean, we…We had…" After a long uncomfortable pause, Lorne clears his throat and asks awkwardly, "You do know what sex is, right?"

In his head Lorne desperately prays that the kid knows already so he doesn't have to try and explain it. He'd rather have his arms and legs cut off again and be thrown on a crawling lice-pile than suffer through the excruciating humiliation of explaining where a man puts his penis and how babies are made.

Thankfully, Kylar answers him with frankness. "I am well aware of it, yes. I saw many instances of mating back on Pylea, both animal and demon."

Lorne's relief is immense. "Well, that's all that happened. I was tired and stressed and I needed…Ah, it doesn't matter why." He waves away his pitiful reasons. "They didn't harm me in any way, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Kylar gazes at him in slight confusion. "Then why did you threaten to cut their tongues out?"

"I was just annoyed at them for telling you what went on. It should have been me who told you. No wonder you were so angry you had to go find a vampire to kill."

Lorne winces at how much sheer emotion it must have taken to drive quiet, mild-mannered Kylar into doing such an extreme thing.

"You probably really wanted to kill ME, huh?"

"I do not care about the vampire as it had no soul," Kylar states, "but I don't wish to be angry at you ever again, Lorne. I did not like feeling that way."

"It's okay - I totally deserved it." The thirty-three year old male glumly looks at the teenager beside him. "Are you still mad?"

Kylar shakes his head, burrowing further into the calming warmth of Lorne's embrace. "Not anymore."

Lorne's voice brightens. "So, you forgive me?"

"Of course I do." A light sigh drifts though Kylar's wine-coloured lips as he lays a cheek against his care-giver's comforting chest. "After hearing you sing, I would forgive you for anything."

Immeasurably grateful to hear that, Lorne rests his chin on top of the boy's crown, tightening their hug. "Thank you, sweetheart. You don't know how much that means to me."

They sit there on the bed for a long time, neither of them talking, just holding each other and reconnecting, letting their auras mingle in a cloud of swirling warmth. Both of their minds are touching, carefully and tentatively, the first time Lorne has let down his protective shield enough for Kylar to reach inside it. Rather than see his deep, dark, shameful secrets, the boy can only see how much Lorne cares for him and has grown to depend on him and need him, just as Kylar needs Lorne. He sees how scared Lorne was when he saw Kylar carried into the hotel, covered in blood and barely conscious. Lorne actually thought Kylar was going to die. He sees how frightened Lorne was of losing him and being left all alone again. The intuitive teenager can see how terribly lonely Lorne was before Kylar arrived on this plane, how isolated the musical male felt at being the only Pylean in the city with nobody else around who truly understood him or his profound, well-hidden unhappiness.

On the outside Lorne has always appeared to be so bright, chirpy and cheery but underneath that he was carrying such a hopeless burden of despair, thinking he would never find anyone that would love him or accept him for who he truly was. Kylar has also felt that way in the past, of being strange and segregated to the rest of the population, and he is so very glad that he and Lorne have now have found each other and that they aren't alone anymore. They are different to everyone else and didn't belong on their home dimension. This is where they belong. Here. Together.

In each other's arms.

Even Fredelia senses what an important moment this is for the two demons and their slowly blossoming relationship, the small winged marsupial clinging to the folds of the bedroom curtain, occasionally peeping out in perplexed, upside-down inquisitiveness. She would like to come out and noisily chase Lorne away but Kylar is silently telling her not to and so the furry bat remains hidden and keeps quiet, allowing her gentle master and his spiky-haired guardian to bond in peace and privacy.

Soon, Kylar starts falling asleep against his side and so Lorne lays him back down on the bed and tucks him in, kissing the recovering youth right between his perfect little horns. Holding Kylar's hand, Lorne sits on the mattress for a while, watching the eighteen year old as he dozes, Lorne's heart overflowing with love and his eyes with tears. He's never loved anyone as much as he loves this brave, beautiful boy and vows to all the Gods and the Powers That Be that he will never, ever upset Kylar or make him cry again.

…

A/N: To hear the song Lorne sang to Kylar, go to you tube and do a search for Bad English. And then imagine it in Lorne's amazing voice… *tears up*


	11. Phantom Love

Part 11. Phantom Love

Kylar is laying face-down on the bed with his eyes closed and head turned, cheek resting on the pillow. He feels gentle fingers slipping through his hair, moving it aside, and then warm lips press against the back of his neck. A caressing hand is sliding over his pyjama-covered body - from his lower back, down over his bottom and then back up again, making the young Empath tingle.

"Mm, Lorne. That's nice," he sighs sleepily without opening his eyes. There's a gust of warm breath in his ear as he receives a reply.

"It's not Lorne."

Lashes flying open, Kylar whirls around to find the Ho'kio twins kneeling beside him on the floor, their black-diamond eyes glittering in the dark, their faces as smooth as china masks within the veils of their long ebony hair, deathly-pallid complexions only marred by the three smoky bullet-hole birthmarks on their foreheads. Kylar is being touched by the pretty one.

"What are you doing here?" he blurts in confusion, scrambling backwards. "You shouldn't be in my room!"

"But we are." The slimmer demon smiles, showing small pointed fangs. "And we're not leaving until we get what we came for."

"What is that?" The green-skinned teen glances between the two brothers with alarmed crimson eyes as they crawl onto the mattress with him. "What do you want from me?"

"The same thing you want."

"The same thing we ALL want," the bigger twin echoes in a deeper tone, placing his strong white hand onto Kylar's thigh, making him jerk.

"Do not touch me," Kylar whispers in both dread and anticipation.

"Why not? Aren't you having fun?"

The pretty one seconds with a pout, "Don't you want to play with us?"

"I…I don't – I cannot," the boy stammers, flushing at his own body's betraying response to those silken voices, promising pleasures far beyond anything he's ever experienced before.

"We know you've felt our mystical allure. We know you can smell our musk." A slender palm strokes down Kylar's suddenly-tightened belly. "Don't say you haven't sensed it, little spawn."

"Don't say that we aren't attractive to you," the more masculine Ho'kio finishes.

Kylar swallows, realising with great shame that he does indeed feel desire for these seductively perfumed creatures. "But Lorne…"

"Has already played with us. Now it's your turn."

Leaning in together, the leather-clad twins share a sensual kiss with playfully meeting tongues (Kylar catching the silver flash of a piercing) and then they turn back to the younger demon, both of them reaching for his cotton pyjama top and lifting it up, revealing Kylar's naked torso and admiring it with sparkling obsidian eyes.

"Beautiful."

"Yes, he is."

"We're going to enjoy playing with him."

"We certainly will."

The pointy-eared brothers touch him, running their hands over Kylar's bare belly and then up his sides, over his chest, their pale fingers cool against the heat of his olive skin. Kylar shivers, a sharp black nail tracing around his hardened nipples. The feminine-featured twin goes down further, slipping a hand into the front of Kylar's pants and making a pleased purr.

"So hard already."

His face burning, Kylar tries to close his thighs.

"No," the larger demon chides, holding Kylar's legs still. "Don't hide how you feel. We want to know how much we excite you."

The girlish twin retrieves his hand, breathing in Kylar's scent and then licking those long-nailed fingers with a delicate tongue-tip. "Mmm. You're even sweeter than you smell. Here, brother. Taste how sweet the little spawn is."

The first Ho'kio holds out a hand out to the other, the broader male also tasting Kylar's aroused secretions and giving a rumble of approval.

"Delicious, indeed."

They both climb closer to Kylar, smiling their evilly fanged grins, jet-black hair brushing over his skin like moth-wings in the night. Two pairs of eager hands tug off Kylar's pyjama top while the youth watches numbly, trying to comprehend if he's awake or if this some kind of erotic dream because right now it's very difficult to tell. It certainly feels real, though, ten pointed nails grazing down his nude arms, softly scratching his flesh and causing goose pimples to rise from wrist to navel.

Sensing a presence, Kylar looks up to notice Lorne in the doorway. For a moment the timid teenager thinks his jealous guardian is going to explode and start hurling the furniture around the room but he doesn't. He silently stands there, the older Empath lighting up a cigarette, just watching the scene with glowing red eyes.

Though they must be able to sense him too, the uninvited Ho'kio demons carry on as if Lorne isn't even there.

Still bewildered by Lorne's passive permission, Kylar jolts as his woven pyjama bottoms are ripped off with one quick yank, leaving him completely naked. He blushes at the sight of his own erect organ, speckled green along the shaft and rosy-red at the tip, lying full and flushed on his own belly. The prettier Ho'kio separates Kylar's thighs and settles between them on the bed, stomach-down. He licks a pair of inky lips with a snake-like flicker and begins to lower his head.

"No! Stop it," Kylar cries in sudden panic, trying to wriggle away up the bed but the more muscled twin holds him immobile by the shoulders, the other one grasping Kylar's hips in both hands and pulling him back down. They are so powerful. Being held captive by two sexually-aggressive males is both extremely exciting and frightening to Kylar. With a strange demon's face between his legs, looking at all his private areas, the inexperienced teen feels utterly vulnerable and exposed and it scares him. Unable to move, he desperately looks to Lorne with scared ruby eyes, telepathically begging to be rescued but the older Pylean doesn't do a thing to help Kylar get away. In fact, Lorne just nods permissively, encouraging the other demons to continue their ravishment, letting them take advantage of Kylar's helpless, spread-eagled figure.

"Don't…Please," Kylar begs, starting to shake with terror as his thighs are pushed wider apart, leaving no part of him hidden.

"You have nothing to fear, little spawn. I just want to taste you," the effeminate twin murmurs as he lowers his eyelashes and dips his raven head, a twelve-inch black tongue emerging from his mouth like a glistening serpent. Kylar thrashes in fright but the bulkier brother presses Kylar down harder into the mattress, stopping him from moving. All tensed up, Kylar breathes in fast, jerking as he feels that slick tongue licking slowly along the cleft of his buttocks. The boy's body jerks again as he receives another slow hot lick, then another and another. He can feel the twin's tongue-stud sliding and bumping over his personal entrance.

Like a probing alien tentacle, that wet appendage twists and squirms its way into Kylar's tiny opening, beginning to shallowly glide in and out with short motions. It doesn't hurt but the wetly jabbing sensation is nearly too much for that sensitive part of his body to handle. Gasping at the almost unbearable shocks of pleasure flashing through his stomach, Kylar puts his hand on the Ho'kio's head, trying to push him aside but the dark-haired seducer simply reaches up with elegant fingers and moves Kylar's wrist down, continuing to tease the trapped eighteen year old youth in this ultra-intimate manner.

"Do you like that the Host is here, Kylar?" The bigger brother asks lowly, glancing towards Lorne in the doorway. "Do you like us holding you down and tasting your sweet hole while he watches? Does that turn you on?"

Actually, it does. Knowing that Lorne is closely observing his defilement only increases Kylar's humiliated excitement. He shudders on the bed, close to losing his composure – or what little he has left of it. Desperate need overtaking any fear he might have felt about this whole situation, Kylar pushes harder against the twin's teasing mouth, openly moaning now. The girl-faced Ho'kio glances up with glittery, gratified eyes, watching Kylar's face tense as he approaches orgasm. With a few expert flicks of his tongue-ring, the seductive demon has Kylar crying out in release, the kid's narrow hips bucking as creamy fluid ejects onto his own belly.

With a ragged gasp, Kylar wakes up. For a moment he's completely bewildered and disoriented but soon his senses realign.

He's alone in his darkened bedroom. His heart is pounding and his pyjamas are soaked again. A disconcerting feeling of relief and disappointment floods through him as he realises what's just happened. Another dream. This is the fourth time in a row. There have been many more lately, but they don't always culminate in him attaining sexual climax. Sometimes he awakens early with an aching hardness between his legs and a fire in his blood that won't go out until he takes a cold shower. Wincing at the stickiness in his pants, he knows he will have to take a shower anyway, just to clean up. It might feel good when it's happening but it's so messy afterward. With a mixture of uncertainty and embarrassment, he wonders if this intense dreaming experience is normal for adolescent boys on this dimension or if there's something seriously wrong with him.

He could ask Lorne as he's older and possesses unsurpassed knowledge of this world but since most of the dreams involve him in some form or the other (most often doing wicked things to Kylar's naked body or watching as other people do it), the young Empath is too ashamed to speak to his custodian about these surreal nocturnal incidents or discuss what might be the cause of them.

He'll just have to ask his other source of Earthly information - Connor.

Sighing, Kylar rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

…

Over the next couple of weeks, Lorne is still kicking his own ass. Even though Kylar graciously forgave him for what he did with the twins in his dressing room, the tri-sexual demon still feels as crappy and guilty as ever for doing it in the first place. He knows he hurt Kylar badly. He knows it was wrong. And he knows it will take a while for their relationship to get back to where it was, so he gives the eighteen year old youth some space. Back in the club, Lorne had threatened to ground Kylar for sneaking out of the hotel but in light of recent events, that is all forgotten and Lorne gives his foster-son complete freedom to come and go as he pleases. Lorne still watches out for him, makes sure the boy doesn't train too hard and that he eats properly and gets enough sleep but the older male tries not to crowd Kylar or over-protect him. As Kylar pointed out, he is not a child. He's growing into a very strong, independent young man who makes his own choices and decisions, one who is fully prepared to accept the consequences of his actions and learn from them. The vampire bite on his neck heals without a problem, leaving two white marks that Kylar is actually proud of, calling them his first 'battle scars'.

When everyone hears the full story of what happened from Connor, how Kylar dusted the female vamp-leader in one strike, they are all suitably impressed. Staking a vampire's heart from the back is an incredibly difficult move to pull off yet Kylar did it. Gunn congratulates him on his first kill and, lightly punching him in the shoulder, proclaims Kylar to be part of the gang now, which pleases the olive-skinned teen immensely. As discussed, there is a small party to celebrate and everyone has few glasses of vodka-tainted punch, except for Connor, because alcohol affects him far too quickly and bad things can happen when he's drunk and out of control.

The boy-slayer is thankful that Kylar still wishes to be friends with him and is amazed when he finds out that the softly-spoken demon wants to continue staking vampires, despite what happened on his first attempt. Rather than be scared off by the attack, Kylar is empowered by it, knowing that if he can survive that, he can survive anything and so he regularly joins his best friend in nightly hunts to destroy more of the ugly yellow-eyed creatures and their blood-drinking ways. For once in his life, Kylar actually WANTS to be a warrior. Fighting against evil has given the peaceful youth a new purpose and a new sense of pride in his growing strength and masculinity. If his family could see him now, slaying vampires like a seasoned champion, they wouldn't be able to believe it.

Though Lorne worries himself silly whenever the two teens go out hunting, he just has to trust that they know what they're doing, particularly Kylar. By killing the vampire that bit him, the pretty Pylean has proved that he is capable of defending himself like a man and after that terrifying incident, he makes certain it doesn't happen again. The blindfolded sensory training he's doing with Connor pays off tremendously and Kylar is able to detect the undead predators in pitch-black darkness, even without breath or heartbeats to pinpoint their location. Once Kylar senses the empty hole where their souls should be, he goes in for the kill, using stealth, light-footed agility and speed, staking the vampires in the chest before they even get close enough to smell him, let alone try to take a bite.

But still, Lorne's worry never stops until the two boys come back into the hotel lobby brushing ash off their clothes, euphoric and jubilant about another successful night's hunt. Kylar is becoming quite the little huntsman. It makes Lorne proud to see the kid maturing so much, so quickly, but at the same time it makes him sad that Kylar's lost some of his innocence. It reminds Lorne that people change, time does fly and that he should cherish the days that he has with Kylar under his guardianship, before the teenager gets too old and outgrows him. Soon, Kylar won't need him anymore and that's the saddest thought Lorne can think of.

Shortly after he gets up one day, about mid-afternoon by then, Lorne makes a few phone calls to his buddies in entertainment, securing private box seats to that night's showing of Phantom of the Opera. He's already seen it like, a hundred and fifty times but Kylar hasn't and he wants to initiate the kid into the brilliant world of musical theatre. Kylar still loves music; at least that much hasn't changed.

He goes to Kylar's room and knocks on the door, mindful of the fact that he can't just waltz on in or he might accidentally catch the kid undressing or doing something else private that Kylar wouldn't want him to see. Lorne's not sure if Kylar actually knows how to masturbate but he is a teenage boy like Connor so it's better to be safe than sorry.

Kylar masturbating. Oh great. That's exactly what Lorne didn't want to think about and yet here he is doing it, picturing the trim-hipped youth lying nude on his bed touching himself, Kylar biting his pierced lip in quiet enjoyment as slim fingers stroke and caress his own hardened flesh…

Shit, Lorne feels like a dirty old paedophile.

The door swings open, jarring him out of his shameful fantasy. Lorne deliberately blocks his mind so Kylar can't read it, or sense his emotions. The younger Pylean is thankfully fully dressed, wearing acid-washed blue jeans and a multicoloured tie-dyed shirt, wooden bracelets around his wrists and shells strung about his neck. He looks like a hippie from Woodstock. His long berry-coloured hair is still damp and extra wavy from his post-training shower. There's an open book about the lives of sea creatures on his neatly-made bed.

Definitely no masturbating.

"Kylar!" Lorne gives him a broad greeting grin. "How are you, my little ninja turtle? Did you have a good day?"

"I did, thank you! I am enjoying my lessons very much," Kylar enthuses. "Today I learned ten new words from my tutor, including 'obsequious' and 'effulgence'. And I just read in this book that dolphins mainly hear sounds through their lower jaw bone! Isn't that incredible?"

"I should take you to Sea World," Lorne suggests. "You can actually pet a dolphin there if you want."

"Oh, could I? That would be simply wonderful!" Kylar's eyes are bright with eagerness. "And earlier during training Angel showed me how to disable a much bigger attacker just by twisting their elbow a certain way."

"You learned a lot today, huh?"

"Yes, I have. I wish I had known all this back on Pylea," the kid says thoughtfully. "Perhaps then I never would have become a slave."

"Well, you're not one anymore and you never will be one again," Lorne reminds him. "You're free as a bluebird and you can do whatever you want with your life. It's yours now."

"You are correct," Kylar affirms with resolute self-pride. "If anybody tries to put me in chains again, I will break their arm in three different places."

One of Lorne's smooth brows shoots up in surprise. He probably shouldn't be thinking this but Kylar's recent kick-ass attitude is sort of…hot.

"If anyone tries to capture me," Kylar continues in that same attitude, "I will fuck them up big-time."

"Kylarkmar!" Lorne gasps. "Where did you hear that word? Did Connor teach you that?"

"What word?" Kylar blinks at him unknowingly.

"You know - the 'f' word."

"Do you mean, 'fuck'? Is that the one? Fuck?"

"Stop saying that!" Lorne's face is horrified at the kid's casual cursing.

"But why? It appears to be a very commonly used phrase on this dimension and has a lot of varied meanings. Connor says it. Gunn says it. I've even heard YOU say it," Kylar points out.

"Yeah but…you're different. You're too nice to swear like that. It doesn't sound good on you."

The boy stares at Lorne in puzzlement. "You don't like it?"

"No," Lorne admits. "I don't."

Seeing that vulgar word come out of such a sweet, pretty mouth is wrong.

After a short, pondering silence, Kylar replies, "Then I will not say it anymore. Are there any other words you do not wish for me to utter?"

"Anything you hear in an R-rated movie," Lorne stipulates, knowing that he is the figure of authority here so he has to right to make some rules for Kylar to follow. "I don't mind if you watch them, because they're a great way for you to learn about this world, just please don't repeat the coarse language you hear in front of me."

Kylar nods readily. "Agreed. No coarse language."

Lorne knows he's getting away with this whole parenting thing easy. After the club confrontation, Kylar has been remarkably cooperative and seems more than willing to do whatever Lorne requests, without arguing or back-chatting. If this was a conversation Angel was having with Connor, there'd be shouting and shoving and thrown punches by now. Kylar is a considerate young man with a lot of respect for others and Lorne feels very lucky to be the guardian of such a well-mannered teenager.

Just then, Fredelia emerges from Kylar's hair, where she has been hiding this whole time. The baby bat is clinging onto it upside down, peeking out through reddish-purple strands to squint at Lorne suspiciously, sniffing the air and detecting the fruity cocktail that the older demon is holding.

"She's grown," Lorne remarks.

"Yes, she has. She's still a little wary of strange people." Kylar turns to speak to his pet. "This is Lorne. You know him. He won't hurt you."

The bat makes a soft chattering sound. Indicating to a split strawberry on the rim of Lorne's glass, Kylar says, "She would like that. She likes the way it smells. You can feed it to her, if you wish. She would trust you more then."

"Well…okay," Lorne reluctantly replies, not liking the idea of sharing his cocktail garnish with a bat but keeping Kylar happy is more important so he takes the strawberry and hesitantly holds it towards Kylar's pet, hoping the furry flower-eater won't bite his fingers. He'd have to get a rabies shot if that happened. The pointy-eared creature pokes out her head, cautiously sniffs Lorne's hand with a flat, pug-nose, snatches the red fruit between sharp front teeth and then burrows further into Kylar's hair to eat it.

"You're welcome," Lorne dryly comments, wiping his hand on his trousers.

Kylar awards him a smile. "Thank you. She is satisfied now."

"She better be. Because the rest of this is all mine," Lorne warns and takes a mouthful of his drink, needing it for courage. If he's going to ask Kylar out on an apology-date, he needs all the help he can get.

"So, ah…" The older demon clears his throat before continuing. "I know you have a full schedule and all but I feel like I've kinda been neglecting you lately. Have I been neglecting you, pumpkin-pie?"

At Lorne's worried expression, Kylar assures, "No, of course not. You are here watching me train every day. You make sure I eat and rest and take my vitamins. I would hardly call that neglect."

Dropping his eyes, Kylar pushes one of his bracelets up his arm, revealing white cuff-marks on his wrist, softly rubbing the scarred tissue. "Believe me, Lorne. I know what true neglect is and you have never done that to me."

Lorne's stomach knots up every time he sees any of the boy's slavery scars. They make him feel queasy. Looking away from the painful marks on Kylar's wrists, he changes the subject.

"Does it bother you when I sit and watch you training? I'd join in but getting my lazy green butt kicked by everyone else isn't something I particularly call fun. Hell, I bet even YOU could kick my butt by now." Lorne glances at Kylar's stronger, more developed arms, reaching out to squeeze the boy's biceps in admiration.

"Look at those solid little muscles!"

Kylar blushes, relishing Lorne's attention. "I do not mind if you watch me. I used to watch you back on Pylea, when you sang in the fields. What was it you called me – a stalker?"

"I take that back. You're not a stalker. And I'm not stalking you either – I'm just making sure you don't train too hard," Lorne hurriedly amends, not wanting the kid to think he's some leering pervert with nothing better to do than ogle sweaty young boys. He's just…supervising. Yeah.

Kylar looks up at Lorne, quietly repeating, "I do not mind if you watch. Your presence strengthens and encourages me. But even though you are here, I must admit we do not talk like this very often."

Despite seeing Lorne in the hotel every day and most nights when the singing demon comes back from his club, Kylar has still been occupied doing other things, like learning various new techniques of self-defence, reading, studying, playing with his bat and hanging out with Connor, and as such Kylar has not been able to converse with his effervescent guardian as much as he'd like and has regretted not sharing more personal, private time with him.

"I've missed you, Lorne," Kylar confesses in a husky whisper.

Lorne is ridiculously, absurdly overjoyed to hear that.

"Aw, I've missed you too, honeykins." His heart aching, Lorne cups the boy's cheek, stroking velvety youthful skin with his thumb. "Let me make it up to you. I'm not working tonight so how would you like to go see a show with me?"

"A show?"

"You know, a play, in a theatre, with people acting out scenes? Like a movie, only live. They still do those on Pylea, don't they?"

"Oh. Yes. I have borne witness to a few of those…performances." Kylar remembers crude stages set up in town squares where tribute was paid to warriors and their magnificent skills in fighting, slaughtering and dismembering, overly-enthusiastic actors recounting the latest fierce battle or hunting expedition for the rest of the village, complete with weapons and buckets of real blood for effect.

Frowning, Kylar concludes, "I never liked them. They were too boastful and violent and there was too much gore."

"Well, this show is nothing like that. No gore," Lorne promises him. "It's theatrical, electrifying and romantic, just like a chick-flick. Only better. And it has fantabulous costumes and music and songs - that's why it's called a musical. It'll be a huge night; all kinds of celebrities and starlets will be there and I got us the best seats in the house on our own private little balcony! Just you and me and all the champagne we can drink. You'll love it, trust me."

Lorne is talking quite rapidly and enthusiastically and Kylar doesn't understand some of the words he hears but the mention of music instantly gains his interest. As does the idea of being alone with Lorne.

"I would like to go to the musical show with you, Krevlornswath. I would like that very much."

"Super! It's a date," Lorne enthuses, already excited and heading to his closet to select a suit. "Be ready at six, okay? And wear one of your dressier outfits. You know, something snazzy."

Staring after him, Kylar wants to ask what 'snazzy' actually means but Lorne has already disappeared into his own chambers to change. Kylar's never been anywhere that required him to clothe in a certain manner but by the tone of Lorne's voice it seems that this event is rather significant. What should he wear? What is suitable for an important evening such as this? Apart from Lorne, Kylar only knows one other person in the hotel who is an expert in clothing.

"Cordelia," he calls out in dismay, rushing towards her room. "I need assistance!"

By six o'clock, Kylar is prepared. He is wearing a fitted black suit that shows off his trim young male figure. Under that is a black collared shirt with a metallic maroon diamond pattern all over it. Cordelia (who, incidentally, is still touched that half a baby bat was named after her) chose this one for him and she picked well because it highlights the intense colour of Kylar's crimson eyes, burgundy mouth and mahogany horns. His skin is a clear pale green, the freckled design sprinkled around the edges of his face and curving under his cheekbones, highlighting the model-like angularity of them. His hair has been combed back off his horned forehead, the mulberry strands gathered into a long, sleek ponytail at the nape of his neck, the full extent of his remarkable beauty revealed for all to see.

It's such a massive contrast to the day he first arrived in LA, when he was in a dirty, ragged robe and was hiding behind his tangled hair, believing himself to be unattractive and unfit for public viewing. Now, he's not ashamed about the face he was once mocked for, proudly showing off his feminine features because they are his and in this world they are beautiful. Pretty. That's what Lorne told him. And Fred, and Cordelia and even Connor. Gunn, Angel and Wesley haven't said it out loud but Kylar can sense that they secretly think the same as well and all this flattery and admiration makes Kylar feel pleasantly flushed.

In the hopes of once again hearing it from Lorne's lips, Kylar knocks on the older demon's door, letting Lorne know that he's ready.

"Coming," Lorne sings out from inside his room, continuing to hum as he puts the finishes touches onto his outfit. He's been singing to himself for the last hour, something Kylar could hear all the way from his room and has been delighted to listen to. He could never get tired of hearing Lorne's voice. It is melodic and harmonious and brings him many pleasant feelings.

As he waits for his humming date to arrive, Kylar nervously adjusts his maroon tie. He's not used to wearing something that looks and feels like an expensive noose around his neck but Cordy assured him that it was proper formal attire and that he looks fantastic so he trusts her judgement.

Soon, Lorne opens his door, the tall Pylean resplendent in a candy-apple red suit over a deep purple silk shirt and matching cravat. A red gangster hat with a purple band and feather completes the suave outfit.

Purple and red. Kylar's favourite colours.

"Good evening, Lorne. I greatly admire your suit," he says with sincere shyness. "Are my garments appropriate for tonight's activity?"

There's a silence and Lorne realises he has been staring at the boy. Closing his mouth and swallowing, the older male manages to reply, "Appropriate. Yes."

Still concerned about his dark clothing next to Lorne's colourful splendour, Kylar presses, "I look okay?"

Letting out a long breath at the pony-tailed vision of elegance before him, Lorne repeats dumbly, "Okay. Sure."

Kylar smiles slightly at the praise, sensing more value in Lorne's simple words. "Only okay?"

Lorne comes back to his senses, realising what Kylar is asking. Arching his hairless brow, Lorne quips, "Well, well. Listen to you. Who's been feeding your hungry little ego, huh?"

Kylar ducks his head, beginning to flush. "I…I did not mean to sound so arrogant. Forgive me."

Not wanting to crush the kid's newfound confidence, Lorne places his fingertips under Kylar's chin, tipping his face back up. "Don't be silly. Of course you look more than okay. You're absolutely stunning. You always are, but especially tonight."

A pleased smile touches the teen's lips. "Thank you. Cordelia helped me with the outfit. She also showed me how to use a 'hair iron'. It makes my hair straight. Do you like it?"

Kylar's slender fingers nervously play with his straightened locks. As much as Lorne loves the natural berry-coloured waves that Kylar normally has tumbling around his shoulders, this new sleeker look gives the boy an added touch of elegance that just about takes Lorne's breath away.

"I love it. It makes you look super-glamorous."

Kylar's heart swells happily at all the compliments. "You look very glamorous too, Krevlornswath. I believe another suitable English word would be…dashing?"

A flattered grin spreads across Lorne's face. Apparently his ego is much bigger than Kylar's.

"Thanks, sugar." He winks, tips his hat at Kylar and then cordially offers his arm for the boy to take. "Now, let's skedaddle before the theatre becomes too crowded."

Cordelia sees Lorne and his date leaving the hotel lobby and catches up with them just before they exit the glass doors.

"Don't you two look spiffy!" she enthuses with a wide smile, taking in both of their outfits. "You two are a hot couple, I gotta say."

Kylar blushes faintly while Lorne beams proudly, thrilled to have such a gorgeous creature on his arm.

"Thanks, Cor. Not to be racist, or species-biased, but it's nice to be partnered with someone whose complexion matches my own for once."

"Oh, you match in more ways than that," the brunette woman states with an arched eyebrow, thinking of all the things that make the two demons perfect for each other. "I hope you have a great night."

"Don't worry, we plan to," Lorne responds, smiling at Kylar. "I'm sure he'll love the Phantom just as much as I do."

Kylar gives a shy smile back, knowing that he'd love anything they go to see, simply because he's with Lorne.

"Well, have fun, you guys. Oh by the way - still waiting for that 'you-know-what'," Cordelia comments to Lorne with a teasing nudge of her elbow, prompting him about that kiss he was supposed to give Kylar ages ago but never did.

Lorne grimaces, knowing exactly what she's talking about. He's been too chicken to do it so far. Perhaps tonight is the night.

"We gotta go. I'll chat to you later, Cordy," he hurriedly says, steering Kylar away before the kid starts asking what they're speaking about.

The two smartly-dressed Pyleans head out into the evening air. It's just after dusk, a light dew settling on the trimmed hedges lining the courtyard. They stroll past a rectangular fish pond with a classically styled fountain in the middle, Kylar petting the head of a frog as they pass. Outside the hotel's wrought iron gates waits a white stretch limousine. Kylar's eyes light up when he sees it.

"I know what this is," he remarks with excitement. "It's called a limo! I've seen them in films."

"Well, now you get to ride in one," Lorne announces, opening the door so Kylar can climb in, the boy awed by the white leather seats, gold trims, plush carpet, state of the art sound system and flat-screen television. The ride is long enough for them to enjoy a complimentary glass of ice-cold champagne from the inbuilt bar, Kylar torn between peeking at Lorne's red-suited handsomeness, admiring the colour-changing neon lights in the mirrored roof and looking out the windows at the passing city scenery. Lorne just sits back with a soft smile and watches Kylar enjoying a taste of extravagance. God knows, after what he's been through, the kid deserves it.

Arriving at the operatic theatre, Lone and Kylar enter arm in arm through a special entrance for the demonically challenged, in order not to scare the humans also attending. They are taken up some stairs and shown to a reserved box seat which is on a balcony high above all the other patrons. Two comfy sofa-type chairs await the Empaths. There are no heads in front of them blocking the view, their elevated position giving them complete privacy and comfort. They also have a personal waiter to bring them as much wine and champagne as they want. Lorne and Kylar keep their glasses filled with pre-show drinks, waiting for everyone else to take their seats. Listening to the buzz of the crowd, Lorne points out various celebrities as they arrive down below but Kylar doesn't know who any of them are.

"This is very nice, Lorne," Kylar says, glancing around at their lofty private location, "but may I ask why are we not down there with everyone else?"

Peering over the edge of the balcony at the sea of hats and hair beneath them, Lorne replies regretfully, "They're human, Kylar. We'd distract from the show. Sadly, we're not as accepted in mainstream society as we'd like to be. Hence, the side entrance."

"Are we the only demons here?"

"No, see across at that other box seat?" Lorne points to a genderless-looking couple with sky blue skin and tentacles coming out of their heads like fleshy dreadlocks. "That's Y'noth and J'arlan. They're pals of mine. Zyn demons. Brilliant composers and songwriters. They produce soundtracks for films."

After he jovially raises his glass to the blue-skinned pair in greeting, Lorne motions to another raised viewing booth where a hugely overweight yellow demon sits, dripping in gold jewellery, a much slimmer but still flashy female hanging off him like an accessory.

"And that's Garlakian Turkav and one of his many mistresses. He owns a bunch of luxury car dealerships. He's filthy stinking rich and I hate him. Hi," Lorne mouths, waving cordially at the other demon while plastering on a fake grin that even Kylar can see is forced.

"Why do you hate him?"

"Oh, I don't really hate him. But I don't exactly like him very much either. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the planet and treats people like dirt. But he spends a lot of money at my club so I have to pretend to be nice to him." Lorne snorts. "When you're in business, kiddo, everyone is your friend and yet nobody is."

"I see," Kylar returns, somewhat puzzled.

The lights dim and Lorne grabs Kylar's arm excitedly. "Shh, it's starting!"

From the moment the dramatic overture begins and the huge chandelier is lit up and lifted over the stage, Kylar is thoroughly captivated. The music makes him feel every single emotion possible, every word sung hitting him straight in the heart. He gets caught up in the tragic tale, empathising with each character as if they are his own friends. He even sees himself in the lonely, disfigured Phantom and Kylar can only feel pity and sadness for him, wanting the masked spectre to triumph and win the girl but it doesn't happen. By the time the performers are taking their well-deserved bows to the cheers and whistles of the crowd, Kylar is up on his feet applauding with everyone else, clapping, smiling and crying all at once. He's never felt so much joy, love, sorrow, anguish and amazement in one go before. This is an experience he will never, ever forget as long as he lives. Now he understands why Lorne loves musical theatre so deeply.

The purple-shirted Pylean standing next to Kylar also has tears in his eyes but he's grinning from ear to ear as he claps, occasionally sticking fingers in his mouth and letting out a loud whistle of appreciation.

Once the applause dies down and the noisy crowd begins to filter outside, Kylar's sociable guardian escorts him over to the other box seat and introduces him to the blue Zyn demons, Lorne making chitchat with the talented pair for a while about what they're up to and how things are going in the soundtrack business. Clinging to Lorne's arm, Kylar is trying to be courteous and listen to the conversation but his mind keeps wandering, dazzled by the show and all the sensations it produced within him.

Back in the limo on their way home, Kylar is still dwelling on what he just saw and how tragically it ended. "Lorne, why didn't Christine choose the Phantom? Did she think he was ugly?"

"I don't think that's the reason," Lorne answers, shaking his head. "She accepted what was under his mask at the end. She finally realised that the outside didn't matter; only the soul on the inside did."

"So, why did she leave him for the other man?" Kylar asks in perplexity. "He is all wrong for her."

"I know. Raoul doesn't understand Christine like the Phantom does. He doesn't have the same kind of passion, not for music or for life. I mean, yeah, the Phantom is a little messed up and he's killed people but everything he does, he does for her," the older Pylean rationalises. "He loves Christine more than life itself and I guess that makes him dangerous. I think she picked Mr Handsome because he's the safer, and might I add more boring, choice."

"Poor Phantom," Kylar whispers as he stares out of the window; a tear dripping forlornly down his face. "He is all alone."

"Oh, cookie." Scooting closer on the white leather seat, Lorne takes Kylar's face in his hands and wipes the tear away. "It's not real, okay? It's only a story."

"I know." Kylar tries to smile. Though he realises it's just a theatre production, his emotions still believe every moment of it to be true. "It's just such a sad story."

Gazing at that upset little face, Lorne wants nothing more than to press his lips to Kylar's pierced ones, kissing him lovingly and sweetly until the youth believes in happy endings again but Lorne can't take advantage of Kylar's vulnerability for his own selfish desires. And what if Kylar pushes him away? What if he doesn't want to be kissed? He's probably still quite hurt by what Lorne did with those twins and anyway, that's not why Lorne took him on this date. He didn't take Kylar out with the hopes of scoring or getting laid. He did it because he owes the boy this, because he owes him some special attention and undivided time together.

After all the pain and suffering he's been through in his young life, Kylar deserves to be treated with the utmost respect from now on so Lorne simply draws the smaller demon into a hug, resting his chin on the top of Kylar's head. He can clearly sense the younger Empath's lingering unhappiness about the Phantom's heartbreak and Lorne starts to feel gloomy in sympathy, like a man getting pains when his pregnant wife is in labour. He sighs.

"Damn it. I should have taken you to see a comedy."

"No, I enjoyed it." Kylar pulls back, looking at him with those glistening garnet eyes. "I truly did. The music was magical. It just makes me feel things. Too many things, actually," he confesses.

"Know what that's like." Lorne makes a cynical face of understanding. "I can't listen to the performers singing without knowing what's going on in their personal lives. And some of those things I really don't need jumping into my head uninvited. Kind of ruins the romance somewhat. But I've learned to block it out. And so can you, my emotional little plum-pudding. You can turn yourself off to those overwhelming feelings and just enjoy the show."

"You can teach me how to do that?"

"Sure. It's easy - just like putting up an imaginary force field," Lorne breezes. "Now, how about a large caramel sundae to cheer you up?"

This time, Kylar smiles for real. "I fear you are starting to know me too well, Krevlornswath."

_Not as well as I'd like_, Lorne can't help thinking, his focus dropping to Kylar's smiling burgundy mouth and the sparkling golden ring adorning it. He averts his eyes just in case Kylar can somehow read his inappropriate thoughts and tells the limo driver to take them to the nearest McDonalds.

As they turn into the driveway of the fast food restaurant, Kylar spies a familiar auburn-headed figure in the car park. "Look, it's Connor!" he exclaims. Delighted to see his friend, Kylar opens the door and leaps out of the limousine without waiting for it to stop.

"Kylar, wait!" Muttering at the impulsive move, Lorne despairs, "Oh, that kid will be the death of me, I swear."

"Ky!" Also delighted by the unexpected meeting, Connor greets the other teenager with a friendly fist-tap. "What are you doing here?"

Kylar's eyes sparkle. "Getting ice cream."

"Me too," Connor replies, watching as Lorne winds down the electric window of the now-parked limo, the other demon scowling with disapproval.

"Kylarkmar, don't EVER jump out of a moving vehicle," he chastises, too late. "I know you're not used to cars but that's very dangerous, young man. You could get run over."

"Sorry," Kylar mumbles. "I just wanted to talk to Connor."

Looking warily around, Lorne hisses, "This isn't Demon Town. You should get back in here before somebody sees your horned green butt and has a cholesterol-induced heart attack!"

There's a polite cough from nearby.

Everyone turns. Leaning on a shiny blue motorcycle in the parking lot is a good-looking man in his late twenties, wearing a leather jacket, jeans and biker boots.

"Hi." The guy gives a tentative wave, unfazed by the sight of horns and red eyes. "Introductions, Connor?"

"Right. Uh, this is Kylar," Connor awkwardly gestures to the second teen. "And that's Lorne. Everybody, this is Sebastian."

"You can just call me Seb," the new guy offers cheerily. "Everyone else does."

"Hello," Lorne says in curiosity, puzzled by the stranger's unusual ease at seeing demons. "And you are?"

"That's Connor's boyfriend," Kylar blurts out without thinking. "He looks just like the picture I saw!"

"Aw, shit," Connor curses, knowing his secret is out now. He was just going to say that Sebastian was a fellow hunter but Kylar's naïve honesty has ruined that plan.

"Dude, I told you not to tell anyone," he scolds, shooting the other boy a fierce look.

"You said not to tell Angel," Kylar replies in confusion. "Lorne is not Angel."

Sighing, Connor realises his argument is futile. When you tell Kylar things, you have to be REALLY specific or he just doesn't understand. It's not his fault.

"Excuse me? Boyfriend?" Lorne butts in from the window, his non-existent eyebrows lifted at this astonishing and baffling news. "Did I…did I hear correctly?"

"Yeah, I'm the gay lover he secretly goes to see at night. Nice to meet you, Lorne," Sebastian answers with a charming grin, walking over and sticking his hand out. "I must say I've heard a lot about you."

"Well, I haven't heard a damn thing about you, Mr Tall, Dark and Devastating," Lorne remarks in intrigue as he climbs out of the limo and shakes Sebastian's hand, gazing at the man's glossy, shoulder-length black curls, lean body and exotic emerald eyes.

"He's a model," Kylar reveals, sensing Lorne's admiration. "That is why he's so attractive."

"Indeed." Lorne focuses interestedly on Connor's almost-blushing face, realising he's just gained valuable blackmail material. "Has someone been keeping a dirty little secret from Daddy?"

"Shut up," Connor growls, knowing he can't talk his way out of this one.

"Sebastian is older than Connor. And they have sex. That's why he doesn't want Angel to know." Kylar's tone is matter-of-fact. Connor glares at him and drags the innocent demon youth aside by the arm.

"Too much information, Kylar! Remember we talked about that?"

"Oh. I am sorry. I forgot." Kylar chews his bottom lip and peeks up at Connor apologetically. Of course that adorable expression means that Connor can't stay mad at his best friend for long.

"Don't worry about it," Connor sighs. "At least Dad's not here. And I can always threaten Lorne to make him keep quiet."

"No, you mustn't," the other teenager stresses, hating when Lorne and Connor argue. "You don't need to issue threats. I will ensure Lorne doesn't tell Angel about your gay life-partner."

"Good. I wanna see the look on his face when I tell him myself." Taking in his friend's fancy suit, Connor asks with a half-smirk, "So, are you and Lorne on a 'date'?"

"I think so." Kylar smiles shyly and glances over to his dashingly-attired escort.

"Has he kissed you yet?"

"Not yet. But he thinks about it."

"You been reading his mind?"

"No. That would be wrong. But I see him staring at my mouth sometimes."

Connor arches a brow. "So, the piercing is starting to work, huh?"

Biting his ringed lip, Kylar returns bashfully, "I think so."

They look over to where Lorne is talking with Sebastian by the limousine, both of the men getting to know each other. Connor frowns, realising his Egyptian boyfriend keeps staring at Kylar, admiring all the demony prettiness. The boy-slayer gives an unimpressed grunt. "I think it's working on Sebastian too."

"He could also be looking at you, Connor," Kylar offers, sensing his friend's rising resentment. "You are his lover, after all."

"For now," Connor mutters, thinking that he'll have to bang Sebastian extra-hard tonight to remind the guy who he belongs to. Of course, Connor knows that Kylar is cute and has admired the other teenager himself but he'd still prefer it if his boyfriend didn't stare so openly like that.

"I know some people who run a demon modelling school. I could get Kylar a place in five seconds flat. He's fucking gorgeous," Sebastian murmurs, making Lorne seethe with instant jealousy. "Do all you guys look like this?"

"Afraid not," Lorne answers stiffly. "Kylar is a complete rarity where we come from. I know he looks the part, but I would never allow him to model. He's far too innocent to get involved in that kind of business."

Then the short-haired Empath does a double take, realising that in a roundabout way, Sebastian might have actually paid him a compliment too. "Wait – what do you mean 'all you guys'?"

"I mean, you look pretty amazing too," Sebastian reveals, turning to Lorne with flirtatious interest, studying not only his dandy suit and hat but the dappled greenness of Lorne's complexion and the deep, matt-red colour around his eye-sockets. "I love your colouring. And your beautiful dark lips…That's not makeup, is it?"

Lorne gulps, feeling that emerald gaze caressing him like a touch. "Um, no. I'm just wearing what Mother Nature decided to paint me with. But thank you – that's very flattering." He laughs nervously and fumbles for an old fashioned cigarette case he keeps in his jacket pocket, not used to someone as hot as Sebastian looking at him like that.

"I used to wear makeup. And dresses," Sebastian volunteers, not ashamed of his past. "Not just on the catwalk, either. I used to dress up and go out like a woman, before Connor found me about to get eaten by a vamp and rescued me. He made me more of a man, made me stronger. He made me want to protect him for a change. I guess that's what love does to you."

The male model smiles, shifting his gaze over to where Connor and Kylar are talking. "I bet you feel that way about your boy too, especially since he was a slave and everything."

Lorne frowns. "Connor told you about him? About us?"

"Yeah. He tells me everything. I'm really glad you're getting along now, by the way. I know you and Connor clashed in the beginning."

"Well, we're trying." Connor's former 'uncle' grimaces as he taps a cigarette out of the mother-of-pearl case and slips it into the corner of his mouth. "It's not always easy, I'll admit. The brat has some attitude about him."

Knowingly, Sebastian laughs. "Tell me about it. Kylar seems sweet as pie, though."

"Oh, he is. He's an absolute darling." Lighting his smoke with a match and taking a puff, Lorne warms up to the subject. "Can't believe he used to live in the village next door to me back home and I never saw him, not once. Because of what other people said to him, what names they called him, Kylar thought he was horrendously hideous and always hid himself away in the shadows. That's why I never noticed him."

"But you notice him now."

Both of the men look at the strikingly androgynous teenager conversing with Connor, Kylar looking a little less feminine in the sharp black suit he's clothed in but still pretty enough to make people take a second guess at his gender.

"So, you're basically Kylar's foster-dad. Is that why you're having trouble accepting your feelings towards him?" Seb guesses. "Is that why you won't kiss him?"

"What else has Connor told you?" Lorne demands indignantly, feeling as though his privacy has been invaded. "Because I'm about to put my foot up his blabber-mouthing ass right now and boot him back into the hell dimension he dropped out of!"

"He doesn't mean any harm by it," the tanned model assures Lorne. "Besides, I can see for myself how much you want Kylar. You know, speaking as one gay man to another. You're not related so I assume you're holding back because of his age. Because he's so young?"

Realising that Sebastian is one hundred percent correct, Lorne rubs at his horned forehead, sighing. "Oh, you're right. If only Kylar was at least ten years older. Or I was ten years younger."

"I'm eight years older than Connor," Seb points out. "And we work together just fine. There's no reason why you and Kylar can't either."

"But he's been hurt. Badly," Lorne emphasises. "Some of it from me. I gather our talkative little hunter informed you about the twins too?"

"I heard about it, yeah. And I'm not judging," Sebastian replies quickly. "God knows I've made plenty of stupid mistakes in my lifetime too."

"He used to be a slave. He was chained up, beaten and whipped. The only physical contact he's known in the past has been cruel and violent." Lorne swallows uneasily. "How can I possibly touch him after that and not bring back bad memories?"

"That's why you NEED to touch him," the gay male insists. "Show him the other side. Show him how good it feels. Make him forget all the bad."

Dragging deeply on his cigarette, Lorne finally admits, "I'm not sure I can."

"You should at least try. I think he wants you to."

"How do you know?"

"He keeps looking at you. Plus you're on a date together. If Kylar didn't want to be touched, he wouldn't have accepted. And just look at how nicely he dressed up for you. Nobody makes such an effort for someone they don't have feelings for."

Lorne wishes he could believe that. But he can't be certain about the way Kylar feels, not when it concerns his innermost emotions. As honest as Kylar normally is with him, Lorne senses that the youth doesn't show all his feelings, all the time. There are still things he keeps private, things he doesn't want Lorne to know, perhaps things that happened to him back on Pylea which might still haunt the eighteen year old and affect his behaviour to this day.

"I wish I could erase his painful past and let him grow up all over again," Lorne says regretfully. "No child should ever suffer the way he has."

"He's not a child, Lorne. When I look into his eyes, I see strength, wisdom and maturity. I see wants and needs and desires. Just like you."

"Great. Am I that transparent?" Lorne mumbles, not even bothering to lie.

"You want him; he wants you. What's wrong about that?" Sebastian shrugs open-mindedly. "Kylar may have been a slave once but he's not anymore. Now his body is his own and if you're not fast enough, he might give it to someone else. Think about it, okay?"

Nodding, Lorne drops his cigarette butt to the ground and crushes it out with his heel, his brain processing the recommendation he's been given. Usually, it's Lorne who gives advice to those in need so it's odd to be on the other end and be the one receiving it. However, Sebastian is dead-on right. Lorne doesn't want to see Kylar with anybody else, romantically or sexually. If that happened, it would just about kill him.

"Come on, Connor," Sebastian calls out. "Let's leave these two handsome devils alone for the rest of their date."

The younger boys come back to the limo to say their farewells.

"It was nice to meet you, Kylar," Seb tells him with a smoothly seductive smile. "If you ever wanna come hang out at my house with me and Connor, you're welcome anytime, honey. You too, Lorne. I have a bar and can make you special cocktails. Or anything else you want."

Sebastian winks at the older demon, flustering him.

As soon as Lorne and Kylar get back into the limousine and head into the drive-through lane for caramel sundaes, Connor grabs Sebastian by the nipple ring and drags him away.

"Ow, ow, ow!" The older male yelps, stumbling along. "Connor, what the fuck?"

"I know he's pretty but Kylar's my best friend," Connor growls possessively, his blue-sapphire eyes gleaming fiercely. "Don't flirt with him. Or Lorne."

"I'm sorry, candy-lips," Seb hastily returns, holding up his hands in surrender. "You know I don't mean anything by it. I only love YOU, Connor."

"You better. Or I'll snap your neck like a toothpick." With that idle threat, Connor takes his boyfriend by the throat, pushes Sebastian's leanly muscled body up against the bike and kisses him on the mouth, hard.

…

A/N: If for some reason this story disappears due to the mass 'cleansing' going on here, you will still be able to find it on the Adultfanfiction site in the Buffy/Angel section. Thanks for reading :)


	12. Kylar's First Kiss

A/N: Story cover/Kylar picture made by the amazing Lauren just for me! Thanks as always, hon *heart*

...

Chapter 12.

It's late when they get back from seeing The Phantom and Kylar is empathically exhausted from outpouring his emotions at the opera house. Even after the calorific boost of a large caramel sundae (which Lorne enjoyed watching him eat, the kid licking ice cream off the plastic spoon in an innocently sensual way), Kylar still seems tired so despite Sebastian's suggestion, Lorne decides to leave the seduction attempt for another night when both of them have the energy. The teenager goes to his room to change out of the suit and into pyjamas while Lorne makes a tropical nightcap before bed - a banana colada, made of rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice, half a ripe banana and some more rum for good measure all blended together, the alcohol-loving demon leaving it on the bedside table while he's taking off his candy-red evening jacket and purple cravat.

Apart from giving great advice, that Sebastian sure is a dreamy dish, Lorne muses to himself. Not as dreamy as Kylar – that goes without saying. No male model in the world could ever equal Kylar's breathtaking beauty or entrancing charm. The boy truly is one in a trillion. And Lorne just went on a date with him. Lorne's never really dated anybody, not seriously, so to have Kylar on his arm and be able to show him off to friends felt absolutely amazing. As corny as it sounds, it's almost as though Kylar completes him. Or at least compliments him in a brilliant way, like green-tinted yin and yang. One thing's for sure – he and Kylar look damn good together and even Y'noth and J'arlan, his blue composer pals, commented on that fact.

Humming in expectation of a goodnight kiss, Lorne turns around to find a sneaky little Fredelia balancing on the rim of his cocktail glass, little bat-head stuck into it, lapping at the smooth creamy concoction like a kitten at a bowl of milk.

"Hey!" Lorne exclaims in outrage. "Get outta that, you thieving fruit fly! Who said you could come into my room anyway? Shoo!"

He harmlessly flicks his silk cravat at the bat. She chirps in annoyance and flies away from the drink, landing on the velvet curtain and turning her head to glare at Lorne for denying her such a sweet treat. It seems she is rather upset and offended by this because she decides to return and dive threateningly over Lorne's head, squeaking her displeasure. Hearing it, and Lorne shouting, Kylar rushes in to see what the noise is all about and finds the short-haired club owner running around the bedroom after Fredelia. When the winged creature sees Kylar, she immediately flaps over to him and lands on his shoulder, still squawking.

"Why are you chasing Fredelia?" Kylar frowns at Lorne. "Did she leave droppings on one of your suits? She normally goes outside to do her business."

"No, she didn't poop on my suit but I caught this pig-nosed little hog drinking my cocktail!" Lorne jabs an accusing finger at the mammal. "Right in front of me too. How rude!"

"Are you sure? She only eats fruits and flowers."

"Well, that has fruit in it!" Impatiently, Lorne motions to his drink. "Banana, to be exact."

Looking doubtful, Kylar questions, "But surely she doesn't like the taste of alcohol."

The older demon snorts. "Wanna bet? Watch this."

As soon as Lorne's back is turned, the grey-furred mammal silently glides off Kylar's shoulder and lands on the table again. She climbs up the glass using her wing-tips and happily continues guzzling Lorne's drink, little pink tongue darting out, tiny pointed ears poking above the rim.

"See? SEE? I told you!" Lorne yells, pointing. "Get away from that, you nocturnal nuisance! It's mine!"

He swats at Fredelia again and she flaps away, soon coming back to swoop and squeak at Lorne, dive-bombing him much like she did to Gunn when he insulted her by calling her a rat.

"You spiteful little shit!" Lorne remarks as he ducks his head. "I never should have fed you that damn strawberry!"

Kylar watches in disbelief as his pet is attacking Lorne, chirruping and twittering, as if scolding the cranky demon below, Lorne yelling back insults, threatening to catch her, kill her and make a fluffy slipper out of her, the tall Pylean stumbling around the room and tripping over his own furniture. For some reason Kylar finds this amusing, like a scene out of a comedic film. First, he smiles. Then he grins, showing all his pearly-white teeth. He covers his mouth as an explosive chuckle escapes, trying to stop the sound but unable to help it, soon dissolving into giggles and then eventually open laughter, the boy clutching his ribs, tears of mirth beginning to well in his eyes.

Hearing this, Lorne halts in his tracks, looking insulted. "Are you laughing at me? You are actually…you're…"

Then he stops, the look of irritation changing into one of absolute astonishment. "My God. Kylar, you're _laughing_!"

"I'm sorry. But…It was extremely funny. I think she was swearing at you for threatening to make her into a shoe…" Imagining Lorne wearing one single furry slipper complete with outstretched bat-wings, Kylar gives another giggle and then bites his lip, wiping his eyes and attempting to be serious.

"This is the first time I've heard you do that," Lorne says in wonder, totally forgetting about his cocktail, Fredelia eagerly flapping down to finish it off. "After everything that's been done to you, I didn't think you knew how to laugh anymore."

"I didn't either," Kylar confesses. "It feels good. I must do it more often."

"Yes, you should." Stepping up to the former slave-child in admiration, Lorne murmurs softly, "Laughter becomes you, Kylarkmar."

Drawn to those vibrantly sparkling eyes and healthily-flushed cheeks, the older Empath gently cups Kylar's face in his hands, Lorne's gaze dropping to the teen's still-smiling lips and that bewitching piece of jewellery embedded there. Even though he's no longer in his elegant suit and has removed the slick ponytail, Kylar is still utterly captivating, even in a pair of polka-dotted pyjamas, the pretty young man gazing up at Lorne openly and trustingly, almost seeming to invite him closer. The golden lip-ring he wears glints enticingly in the light. His heart overflowing with love and desire, Lorne is helpless to resist leaning in, lured by the wildflower perfume of Kylar's hair. The closer he gets, the more Kylar's chin tilts up, the boy's long lashes lowering until finally, his eyes are closed in expectation, his burgundy lips parting just a fraction, waiting for Lorne's to connect with his.

There's a loud clanking thud, jarring the two empathic demons out of their trance. They both whirl around to find the female bat on the floor, the glass knocked over on the table, remaining contents spilled everywhere in a yellow puddle.

"Fredelia!" Kylar cries in alarm, rushing over to his bat and kneeling in front of her, carefully cradling her little grey body in his hands.

"Oh crap, she's not dead, is she?" Lorne asks guiltily as he peers down at the motionless creature, hoping he hasn't killed Kylar's beloved pet with his strongly-mixed cocktail.

"No, just intoxicated. You silly girl. You can't handle alcohol like Lorne and I can," Kylar scolds as the inebriated mammal flops over and clambers up his arm, the bat's movements a lot clumsier and less coordinated than normal.

"Are you sure she'll be all right? All that rum might make her sick."

"She should be fine once it wears off. Sorry about your cocktail," Kylar offers. "But I think you shouldn't leave them unattended from now on."

"Don't worry, I won't be," Lorne mutters, bothered for two reasons – one, that his nice banana cocktail was ruined by that cheeky little bat and two, that the chance for kissing Kylar was also ruined. Dammit. He can't do it now. The moment has passed and he senses that Kylar is more concerned about his pet than anything else.

"You should go to bed now, cookie-crumb," the taller Pylean advises, feeling urges he'd rather not act upon tonight. "And take that darn flying mouse with you."

"You're not a mouse, are you, my little Fredelia?" Kylar coos, stroking the critter's soft fur and membranous wings. Fredelia chatters back, as if talking to him, rubbing her head on Kylar's hand like a cat does.

Standing by the doorway, the slim teenager hesitates, turning gratefully towards his caretaker and escort. "Thank you for a wonderful night, Lorne. I would very much like to do it again."

"You would?"

Nodding, Kylar awards him a shy smile. "Now that I can laugh, perhaps you should take me to a comedy next time."

"Whatever you say, cucumber." Lorne smiles back. "Good night. Sleep well."

Smiling again, Kylar leaves the room, taking his drunken pet with him.

It's only after he's gone that Lorne gives a deep hopeless sigh and sinks onto the bed, rueing yet another missed opportunity to make a move on the boy.

Cordelia is SO going to kick his ass…

…

It's been almost a week since he was taken to see The Phantom of the Opera and Kylar has been thinking a lot during that time. He's been thinking about those demons that seduced Lorne. The ones with the black eyes. Connor told him how they helped out the night Kylar was bitten, how they flew him and Connor back to the hotel to get medical aid. Although he is thankful for their assistance, Kylar doesn't remember that part. He was unconscious by then. All he remembers is what happened before, when they spoke to him in the club. They wanted to seduce him as well. They called him 'delicious' and said they wanted to play with him. He remembers the slick feel of the slimmer one's tongue on his cheek. Tasting him. It shocked and disturbed Kylar but at the same time it made him very aware of the creature's strong sensuality. And his own.

Now that he's had time to recover from being licked in public, Kylar actually finds the memory intriguingly erotic and exciting. He can't help wondering what that long black tongue would have felt like in his mouth. It must have been in Lorne's mouth that night when the short-haired Pylean didn't come home. It was probably in other places too, judging by what the more feminine twin was hinting at. Kylar can only assume that their threesome encounter involved tasting and licking of personal body parts. That's probably the main cause of those orally-centred sex dreams Kylar's been having.

Thinking about that evening and what must have happened between Lorne and those snake-tongued twins causes Kylar's tummy to shift with uncomfortable emotions. He knows that one of those emotions is envy. He is not angry anymore that Lorne was with them, but rather envious that the two brothers got to have what Kylar hasn't been able to yet.

They got to have Lorne. And Lorne let them. He didn't even seem to _like _the leather-clad pair very much yet he allowed them to 'taste' him and based on what the pretty one said, Lorne must have tasted them in a similar way too. And done a whole lot more. Kylar finds that puzzling. It appears that Lorne will willingly participate in mating acts with demons he doesn't even care about but for some reason, he won't let Kylar get that close, even though Kylar is sure his handsome guardian wants to sometimes.

Little does Lorne know that Kylar would give him everything he wanted and desired, if only the older male would step up and take it. Kissing would be the perfect place to start.

What would it be like? Kylar wonders. How would it feel? How would his body react? How would Lorne's?

After days of wondering about it, Kylar finally gathers enough courage to find out. He can't wait any longer. He takes a deep breath and just asks.

"Will you kiss me?"

Eyes widening, Connor almost chokes on his soda. "Wh-What?"

"I still have not been kissed," the young demon admits despairingly, one evening when he and the second boy are sitting on beanbags in Connor's room, listening to the most recent Good Charlotte album.

"I need to know what it's like. I need to know now."

A frown draws Connor's brows together. "Why don't you ask Lorne? Or don't you love him anymore?"

"Of course I love him."

"Even after what he did with the twins?"

"That doesn't matter anymore. It was a mistake and I forgave him for it. Everybody makes mistakes," Kylar graciously grants. "It's just that…if - when - Lorne kisses me, I want to know how to respond. Will you teach me what to do?"

Confused and alarmed by the pressure suddenly sprung upon him, the vampire killer blurts, "Why me?"

"Because you are experienced. I am not."

"You realise I have a steady boyfriend, right? The guy you met at McDonalds - remember him?"

"Yes. That is exactly why I am asking you. Show me what you do with Sebastian. Then I can do that with Lorne, when the opportunity arises."

"I dunno, Ky," Connor objects, thinking of all the possible negative consequences of such a venture. "It's probably a really bad idea."

"I disagree. This is the perfect way for me to learn." Reaching out, Kylar touches Connor's arm. Using his Empath abilities, he sends the other teenager pleading waves of urgency. "Help me, Connor. I will not know what is expected of me otherwise. I do not want to disappoint Lorne."

Already feeling himself relenting under such persuasive techniques, Connor swallows and asks, just to be certain, "So… you want me to make out with you? For practice?"

Kylar nods, too desperate to be shy. "I do not know who else to ask. You are my best friend. And I trust you completely."

"Funny. You're the first person with horns who's ever said that to me," Connor mutters.

Kylar doesn't see the irony in asking a savage demon hunter to kiss him.

"Please?" he whispers helplessly, tightening his fingers on Connor's arm. "Please show me?"

Those big begging ruby eyes sucker Connor in. That and the way Kylar is fretfully nibbling on his lower lip piercing, the golden jewellery luring Connor's focus to that luscious wine-coloured mouth, not that it's the first time he's ever looked. He could probably go to Demon Town near that piercing parlour and find a horned hooker or hustler who'd teach Kylar a thing or two about making out in exchange for a few dollars, but Connor doesn't really want Kylar's first kiss to be from a whore, from some stranger who doesn't even know who he is, or care either. No, Kylar is too special and sensitive. He should be kissed by somebody who cares about him and won't transmit some demonic version of herpes or lip-warts.

"Fine. I'll show you." The auburn-haired youth sighs, placing his can of raspberry soda on the floor beside him and getting to his knees. "But just this once, okay? And you can't tell _anyone _or I will get in so much trouble. Not Lorne, not Cordelia and certainly NOT my dad."

"I won't tell a soul. I promise," Kylar vows as he sits up straighter, his pulse racing in eagerness.

"Right, just…lie down a bit," Connor suggests, coaxingly pushing Kylar in the chest to make him sink backwards into the beanbag. Normally, Connor would be able to feel a heartbeat where his hand is spread out but he can't feel anything because Kylar's heart is situated underneath him, in his left buttock instead of his ribcage. The slayer's sensitive ears can still hear it pounding excitedly, even though it's muffled by the synthetic beans Kylar is lying on. As he lies back further, Kylar's shirt pulls upwards, revealing a slice of flat tummy with a hint of abs. A faint trail of dark olive freckles runs down from his belly button and disappears into his underwear.

Connor's gaze automatically goes there, the human teenager wondering if that speckled skin is as smooth as it looks. The slim-fitting indigo jeans that Kylar's wearing cling to his thighs and calves, outlining how shapely and lightly muscled they are. They're long and athletic, almost like cheerleader legs and Connor lets his interested gaze travel across them, realising that this unplanned lesson isn't exactly going to be a chore. In fact, he might even enjoy it, teaching this willing creature from another world how to kiss and getting to feel that gorgeous, untouched body beneath his. The bisexual hunter climbs onto the beanbag and stretches out, half lying on it and half on Kylar, Connor's elbows to either side of Kylar's head. Their chests and right hipbones are touching. The androgynous-looking youth stares up with wide crimson eyes as Connor settles above him, their faces mere centimetres apart, Connor's long reddish hair tucked behind one hair to keep it out of the way.

Frowning down at his virginal companion and sensing the anxiousness there, Connor questions, "You really sure you want this, Ky?"

"Yes." Even though his voice is shaky, Kylar's choice to proceed is firm and decisive. "I want to be taught. Teach me."

"All right, then. Here goes." Leaning in towards the Pylean teen, Connor prays under his breath, "God, I hope Seb is gonna be okay with this…"

Trying not to think about whether his long-term lover will be jealous or not, Connor proceeds to make out with his best friend, angling his head and slowly bringing their mouths together, dusky rose against rich, pomegranate-red. Kylar's lips are amazingly soft, like marshmallows. The gold ring inserted through the bottom one provides an unusual contrast of textures, the hoop of warmed metal sinking back into the pillowy flesh beneath when Connor applies more pressure against it. The sensation is intriguing. Connor hasn't kissed anyone with a lip-ring before. He suspects that Kylar mainly got it for Lorne, to draw the older Empath's attention, except it doesn't seem to be working. Oh, well. Lorne's loss.

Though Connor is being considerate and patient, giving Kylar unhurried, gentle pecks and nudging encouragingly at his lips, the demon-boy under him doesn't move. He doesn't even open his mouth. It's not that he's too scared or has changed his mind; he just seems to be waiting for instructions.

"Kiss me back," Connor murmurs against Kylar's sealed lips, talking him through each step. "Do what I do."

Kylar obeys, lifting his chin. When he presses his mouth against Connor's, mimicking the other teenager's actions, Connor finds out that his pretty partner not only looks like a girl, but he kisses like one too. Softly. Delicately. Sweetly.

At the beginning, Kylar doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands but soon enough they find their own way to Connor's upper arms, the empathic youth sensing that touching his partner is an important element of this pre-mating ritual. Gradually, Kylar grows more confident in what he's doing, the young Pylean copying each of Connor's moves, the two of them pressing their mouths together, over and over until Kylar has completely relaxed and is at ease with the initial stage of their make-out session.

"Good," Connor praises when he pulls away. "How's that? Nice?"

"Very," Kylar confesses in a breathy tone, wanting the next step. "Do we touch tongues now? Like they do in the movies?"

"I guess so. Are you ready for that?"

Nodding, Kylar licks his lips, proving that he's prepared and has already given it much consideration.

"Okay. It might seem scary or intrusive at first but don't be afraid," Connor explains. "Just let me in. It's nice – I promise."

The second boy nods again.

Shifting to get a bit closer, Connor takes Kylar's feminine face in his hands, lowering his head again. Their lips meet, Connor's parting as he opens his mouth. Kylar does the same. Even though he had been expecting it, Kylar still jolts when the vampire's son carefully pushes in his tongue, the moist tip connecting with Kylar's own. It's the most intimate thing Kylar has had done to him since Lorne stroked one of his horns. But unlike Lorne, Kylar doesn't pull away from this intimacy, instead opening up wider and allowing Connor to deepen the kiss.

Kylar tastes like raspberry soda, as does Connor since it's what they've both been drinking. But under that there's another sweetness, Kylar's own pure sweetness and it's like nothing Connor's ever tasted before. It makes him want more.

"Wrap your tongue around mine," Connor instructs huskily, his breath brushing across Kylar's lips. "Follow it with yours."

Kylar does as he is guided to, their tongues coming together messily and clumsily to begin with but then evolving into a dancing, swirling duet much like gentle swordplay, or so Kylar believes. Quiet, wet kissing sounds and the crunch of shifting polystyrene beads are all that can be heard in Connor's room, since the CD has finished and the music has run out. Not that either of the boys on the bean bag notice.

One of Connor's hands sinks into the other male's stunning hair, feeling how satiny and silky the mulberry waves are – something he's always wanted to do but never been game enough to until now. Their chins are slanted together, Connor's sparse stubble scratchy against Kylar's permanently hairless face. However, Kylar does not mind the rough, sandpapery sensation as it is all part of the experience and reminds him that this is no dream - that he is really being kissed by another person for the first time in his life. He is glad that that person is Connor and instead of feeling awkward or shamed about what they're doing, Kylar just feels great affection and admiration for his generous and knowledgeable best friend.

This certainly isn't the first time for Connor but it is new to him being with a demon. He never thought he would be making out with someone whose heart is in their butt-cheek, somebody that's not even human, but then again, Connor has never met a creature quite like Kylar before – an enticing mixture of seductiveness and innocence, boldness and shyness, strength and gentleness, boyishness and girlishness, all wrapped up in a pretty package of pale green skin. Wanting to feel that skin, Connor's hand slides up the front of Kylar's shirt and over that patterned olive stomach, finding it warm and smooth, dipping his thumb into a dainty oval navel. Connor has the sudden crazy desire to lick it but he doesn't want to tear his mouth or tongue away from Kylar's.

At first Kylar is quite aware that it's Connor on top of him, and that in itself is wonderful, but as he settles into the pleasurable niceness of being kissed, the demon teen starts to imagine that it's Lorne's tongue in his mouth, sliding against his. That it's Lorne's hand up his shirt. Feeling a certain part of himself getting hard, he gives a needy little moan, clutching at Connor's shoulders.

Connor moans back, knowing that he shouldn't feel lust for his innocent friend but feeling it anyway, his groin surging with blood. Kissing Kylar and touching his body is addictive.

Being empathic, Kylar can sense Connor's growing excitement and this in turn excites Kylar, the Pylean boy unconsciously urging Connor to keep going, to go further, to teach him more. Angel's son does this eagerly, his hand continuing upwards, across green-shadowed ribs and a sternum, reaching the freckled flatness of a chest. When Connor's fingertips brush over a tiny nipple, the other eighteen year old muffles a whimper and arches up into the touch. Even though the reaction is satisfying and thrilling, Connor is not so stupid as to believe that Kylar lusts for him in return. He knows perfectly well that the red-eyed boy is thinking of Lorne at that very moment but Connor doesn't care. This is just too hot.

They explore each other's mouths for a while longer, Kylar's delicate touch roaming up and down Connor's spine and back, discovering shirt-covered muscles and skin, unmarked by any scars. That's not to say Connor hasn't got any scars; Kylar knows they're all just on the inside. Connor's heart beats strongly against Kylar's chest, an unknown feeling for the demon boy whose own heart sits in a completely different location. All there is in Kylar's chest are his lungs. But his own cardiovascular organ is beating just as quick. Curious to feel it, Connor slides a hand under Kylar's bottom, cupping one of the demon's buttocks in his palm. Kylar doesn't stop him. Kylar isn't stopping him from doing anything at all.

His ass is so small; Connor can't figure out how a whole heart fits in one side of it but it does, by some clever demonic design, the pumping mass of tissue protected by surrounding muscle and flesh. After an appreciate squeeze of that firm flesh, Connor returns to Kylar's pebbled nipple and teases it with his fingers, the submissive teen making little sighing noises of pleasure. Those sexy noises make Connor grow even harder and he moves down to kiss Kylar's neck, licking at the velvety skin and giving it soft, sucking bites. Moaning, Kylar tilts his head back, enjoying the feel of a hot mouth on his throat. When he was bitten by the vampire it was horrible and paralysing, but this gentle, playful type of biting is tremendously arousing and makes him tingle in all the right places.

Without realising he's doing it, Connor shifts his thigh, pressing it between his friend's legs and onto Kylar's erection. He jerks it back when Kylar gasps. Thinking he might have hurt Kylar or crossed the line of their experimental agreement, Connor pauses to study the inexperienced demon youth below him. Kylar's swollen mouth is half-open and panting, pupils as big as buttons and his scarlet gaze hazy and full of need. All the colouring in his face and around his eyes seems deeper and richer, eyelids and brows a dark violet, lips deep burgundy red and his cheeks flushed greener with arousal. He looks very beautiful and very, very turned-on.

Definitely not hurt or offended.

"Do you like this?" Connor whispers.

"Oh yes," Kylar whispers back, giving a dizzy nod. "Kissing is very good. I like it."

"I like it too. See?"

To prove it, the experienced hunter pushes his hard-on into Kylar's hip, allowing the first teen to feel it.

"Oh!" Kylar exclaims with round eyes. "You're…you've gone…"

"Yeah." Connor smiles lopsidedly. "That's your fault."

Even though it sounds like he is being blamed for something, Kylar actually knows it's a compliment and it heats his belly to realise he can affect his best friend in this way.

"Connor, may I ask you a very personal question?"

"Sure." The other young male shrugs easily, ready to answer anything. They've already gotten quite personal; their tongues have been in each other's mouths and his hand is up Kylar's shirt as they speak.

"Is it normal to wake up with it like …that?" The demon youth glances down at his own stiffness. "In the morning, I mean?"

Connor shrugs again. "Yeah. It's normal. Happens all the time to me."

"But what about…spontaneous nocturnal emissions? Sometimes when I awaken, it's not hard anymore and the front of my pyjamas is wet." Kylar blushes. "Is that normal for boys on this dimension as well?"

"Totally," the human teenager replies with a grin. "It's common too."

"It never happened to me before," Kylar reveals worriedly. "Not once on Pylea. And not when I first arrived here. But since I got bitten by the vampire, I have been having these occurrences rather frequently. And dreams. I have always been a dreamer but lately the ones I've been having are extremely intense and lifelike."

"Really?" Connor stares down at him interestedly. "What have you been dreaming about?"

"The kinds of things we are doing now. Only I'm with Lorne. Or… other people." Kylar's blush darkens, as some of those dreams have involved the twins and their amazing tongues, licking him all over. "They're quite sexual and often end in a real orgasm for me."

"Don't worry. They're called 'wet dreams' and they happen to most guys," Connor clarifies, trying to reassure his anxious friend. "Maybe you were too stressed-out as a slave on Pylea to have them."

"But I have been free of that place for months. Why am I suddenly having them now? Do you think they are a side effect of the bite?"

"Possibly," Connor muses, thinking that the vamp toxins could have altered Kylar's hormones to a higher, more concentrated level. "Or you might just really need to get laid."

"Laid?"

"Sex, Kylar. You need to have sex."

"Will that stop the wet dreams?"

"Maybe not all together but you'll certainly have less of them. Or you could just jack off more."

"Jack…off?" Kylar furrows his brow in frustration, wishing he understood the American language better. "I don't know what that means."

"It means you can touch yourself," Connor breathes, finding that thought a huge turn-on. "Right here."

He presses his thigh against the first teenager's hardness again, Connor gently rubbing it just to hear him gasp once more, the demon's lithe body lifting up off the beanbag with the friction. It's as though Kylar's never been touched down there before. And he probably hasn't. If Connor keeps rubbing him like that, he could probably make the other boy come.

"You are right, Connor - I think I need to get laid," Kylar breathes back urgently, his private parts aching and throbbing without release. "Will you show me how you have sex with Sebastian?"

"God, I can't show you THAT," the Destroyer groans, knowing that Sebastian, Lorne and Angel would kill him together if he took Kylar's precious virginity, no matter how much he wants to do it. "Don't ask me to, okay? I just can't."

Not wanting this experience to ever end, the excited young Pylean pushes, "Will you keep kissing me?"

"Sure. That I can do," Connor answers in a distracted tone, swooping down to claim that beautifully-pierced pair of lips again, the two hormonally-stimulated boys pressing their bodies closer together and beginning to pant heavily between kisses.

They are so engrossed in what they're doing, they don't even hear the footsteps coming down the hall.

…

A/N: Review, please? :)


	13. Truth

A/N: Shout out to Lauren, Remus san, CandiLand95, Seeing Sasha, GirlWithTheCrowTattoo and spikeslilpet! Hope this chapter is what you all wanted :)

...

Part 13. Truth.

The door to Connor's room cracks open. It's Lorne. His suspiciously-narrowed eyes bulge in disbelief at the shocking scene in front of him.

Connor is lying on top of Kylar on the floor, his hand up Kylar's shirt. They're kissing, their mouths opened deeply to each other, tongues entangled and eyes closed. Kylar is pulling his best friend closer by the shoulders, Connor's thigh pressing intimately between the second teen's spread legs. Like a heavy perfume, Lorne can sense the sexual arousal coming from both of the boys, but especially from Kylar, making the older demon feel as though he's been punched in the gut.

Belatedly, Connor realises they are not alone, hurriedly breaking the kiss and turning his head to catch Lorne's crimson gaze, burning like flaming rivers of volcanic lava. He looks furious. Kylar doesn't even realise Lorne has entered the room, too dazed by the exhilarating sensations of pleasure swirling through his stimulated body, his lashes fluttering and swollen lips still wet with Connor's saliva.

"GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!" Lorne roars in overwhelming jealousy, grabbing the back of Connor's shirt and hauling the thin boy up with a rough jerk. Kylar jolts out of his erotic trance and scrambles off the bean bag with a frightened yelp, seeing how incredibly angry his guardian is. Twisting deftly out of Lorne's grasp, Connor turns on the taller male with vicious swiftness, slamming Lorne back-first into the wall of his bedroom and pinning him there by the throat. Items fall off Connor's bookshelf and crash to the floorboards.

"Touch me and DIE," Connor snarls threateningly, his face close to Lorne's, one supernaturally-strong hand clenched around the demon's green neck, easily able to crush or choke. Kylar is standing nearby looking absolutely horrified. He covers his mouth, gasping out a terror-filled plea to his slayer friend.

"Connor, no! Please don't kill him!"

"Fine, I'll let him live," the aggressive hunter mutters, still holding Lorne prisoner with his powerful grip. "But I can't promise I won't hurt him."

"Kylarkmar, this is between me and Connor. Go to your room," Lorne grits out, trying to keep his voice level and failing. "NOW!"

Kylar jumps at the loud order. With a last panicky look, the eighteen year old Pylean scurries off, eyes filled with fearful anxiety.

When he's gone Connor releases the older man with reluctance, stepping away and glaring at Lorne hatefully. Lorne coughs and rubs at his bruised neck, glaring right back.

"The only reason you're not dead right now is because of Kylar," the younger male growls, showing his teeth. "And don't EVER walk into my room without knocking!"

"I didn't knock because I knew you were too busy get up and answer the door," Lorne snaps, not afraid of Connor or his savagely violent nature. "I heard you panting from two floors down. Yeah, you aren't the only one with super-hearing, vamp-boy. What the hell were you doing?"

"You tell me; you were the pervert listening in," Connor throws back, his pale cheeks flushed with fury. "Do you always eavesdrop on me late at night?"

"I couldn't give a damn about what you do in your own room, unless it involves Kylar," Lorne returns heatedly. "I sensed something suspicious going on up here and I was right. You're supposed to be his _friend_! How could you take advantage of him like that, Connor? You know how naïve he is!"

"I didn't take advantage of him! He ASKED me to do it."

"Bullshit, he did! Don't fucking lie to me, you little prick!"

"I'm not lying, you asshole!"

Their angrily raised voices can be heard throughout the multi-floored hotel but nobody is game enough to step in and intervene.

"Kylar wanted this!" Pissed off that Lorne won't believe him, Connor irately points down the hallway. "Go and ask him yourself. He'll tell you the truth!"

Frowning in aggravated confusion, Lorne demands, "Why would Kylar want you to kiss him?"

"Because you won't!"

That leaves the open-minded Empath shocked, as if he'd been suddenly slapped across the face.

"Yeah, that's right. Kylar wanted me to teach him how to kiss so that when you finally got off your ass and made a move on him, he'd know how to respond. He was practising. For YOU." Blue eyes blazing, Connor jabs Lorne hard in the centre of the chest, pushing him backwards a few steps.

"He's in love with you, Lorne. And you're too fucking stupid to see it!"

Needing to vent his rage, Connor storms off downstairs to go kill something, the auburn-haired teen almost smashing the front door of the lobby as he slams it violently behind him.

After all that shouting, the formerly-haunted Hyperion hotel is eerily quiet.

Lorne stands there in a bewildered daze, heart pumping erratically. Starting to realise that he might have made an awful mistake and jumped to a very wrong conclusion, the short-haired club owner quickly leaves Connor's room on the uppermost floor and heads down the corridor to the lower levels of the building, descending three flights of stairs in record time, desperate to find Kylar and make amends.

When he opens the door to Kylar's room, Lorne ducks warily, expecting Fredelia to come flying out of nowhere and dive-bomb him but the grey mammal must be outside drinking nectar from the flowers in the garden. The empathic teenager's bedroom appears empty but Lorne can sense him there, hiding somewhere. The poor kid is terrified.

He quietly closes the door, speaking gently. "Kylar? Where are you, sugar-lump? It's me. It's Lorne. Don't be afraid."

There's a small sob from beneath the computer desk. Concerned, Lorne goes over and crouches down in front of the piece of timber furniture. The boy is huddled under there, hands over his ears to block out the sound of Lorne and Connor yelling at each other. He peers up with big, tear-filled scarlet eyes. He's been crying. Feeling horribly guilty, Lorne reaches out to him but Kylar stiffens, pushing himself even further backward.

"Oh no, honey - you don't have to be scared of me," Lorne says with pleading anguish. "I'd never hurt you! I'm not like your master was."

"I know," Kylar mumbles unhappily. "I just don't like seeing you angry."

"I'm not angry anymore, I promise. And I was never angry at you," the older man returns softly, holding out his hand for Kylar. "C'mon, apple-cake. You know you can trust me. Come on out of there so we can talk, okay?"

Sniffling, Kylar wipes his eyes and then hesitantly accepts Lorne's help to emerge from under the desk. His fingers are trembling. He still looks upset and anxious so the first thing Lorne does is wrap the youth in his arms, hugging him warmly and tightly, letting Kylar know that he's not in trouble and isn't going to be punished.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sweetie," Lorne murmurs, placing a few apologetic kisses onto the top of Kylar's head, resting his cheek against the slender boy's silken berry-coloured hair. "I just thought Connor might have been doing something bad to you. I realise now that he wasn't."

"Please don't blame him. I asked Connor to do what he did," Kylar whispers in shame. "I'm sorry for disappointing you, Lorne."

"No, you didn't disappoint me. And I'm the one who's sorry, my little four-leaf clover," Lorne answers regretfully, stroking down Kylar's back to comfort him. "I shouldn't have charged in all guns-a-blazing, bellowing like a mad bull. That was utterly uncalled for. Do you forgive me?"

Timidly, Kylar nods against Lorne's chest. The former slave-child knows that Lorne cares for him very much and would never lift a hand against him in anger but every time someone snaps or shouts at him, it just brings back all those dreadful memories of being back in the village on his home world and Kylar being blamed for anything that went wrong, usually resulting in a sound beating or the sting of a whip. He automatically associates anger with pain and suffering. But he's not there in Pylea anymore, he reminds himself. He is not held captive or owned by anyone. He is in a new world with Lorne now and Lorne only wants to protect him from harm. If he's ever angry, it's only because he's genuinely worried about Kylar and his safety. That's how Lorne expresses his alarm. It's such a new thing for the freed boy, having someone care so intensely about him, that he still hasn't quite gotten used to it or learnt how to stop his own fears from occasionally taking over and paralysing him.

No matter how many times Cordelia cleanses his soul with her divine glowing powers, there are still some things that Kylar needs to let go of on his own, in his own time. Proving that he's trying to – and that he's sincerely thankful for Lorne's heartfelt concern - Kylar returns the hug, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist and holding on, the spicy scent of his guardian's cologne soothing him and his jangled nerves.

Combing through Kylar's wavy violet locks, Lorne starts to hum a melody, knowing that his voice has a calming effect on the younger Empath, soon singing a soft version of _Hero_ by Enrique Iglesias.

"_Would you dance, if I asked you to dance? Would you run, and never look back? Would you cry, if you saw me crying? And would you save my soul, tonight?_"

Good old Enrique – fixing broken relationships and removing panties since 1995. Not that Lorne is trying to remove anything from Kylar, except for any negative notions that might still be upsetting him. Another reason why Lorne choose this particular romantic song is that he can tell Kylar exactly how he feels through someone else's lyrics, without putting his own heart on the line. He can ask questions he hasn't dared to ask yet, without expecting a reply.

"_Would you tremble, if I touched your lips? Would you laugh? Oh, please tell me this.  
Now would you die for the one you loved? Hold me in your arms, tonight…"  
_  
Enfolding Kylar's smaller figure like protecting angel, Lorne tenderly and melodiously continues, "_I can be your hero, baby… I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away…"_

If only Kylar knew how accurate that was. Sometimes the boy's beauty is so incredible, Lorne forgets how to breathe. He wants Kylar so much that he can't bear the thought of anybody else touching him or stealing him away.

"_Would you swear that you'll always be mine? Or would you lie? Would you run and hide? Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind?_" Lorne pensively questions himself as he sings those exact phrases, answering with a husky, "_I don't care… you're here tonight_."

Kylar could have run off into the city after witnessing Lorne's jealous anger and not come back for days but he didn't. Instead he stayed here and is now allowing Lorne to hold him close, to make up for the misunderstanding. That Kylar still trusts Lorne even after seeing him at his angriest…it means everything to the older Pylean. Each touch that the emotionally-scarred boy grants him, every fragile moment of closeness, is like a precious gift that Lorne will keep with him for as long as he lives.

"_Oh, I just want to hold you… I just want to hold you…"_

__There's another verse to the song and a couple more choruses but Lorne's voice is beginning to crack with painful emotion so he soon wraps it up.

In a final whisper, he tells Kylar_, "Let me be your hero…"  
_

Lorne closes his eyes and swallows the lump in his throat, wanting nothing more than to be that for Kylar. But he's not a hero. A champion. Never has been. He's just a guy who runs a karaoke club, selling fortunes on the side. All he can do is try his best to provide for Kylar and show him that he's loved, no matter what. Lorne just hopes that that's enough.

Still held closely in his guardian's comforting embrace, Kylar sighs, sad that the wonderful singing is over but greatly reassured by the lingering warmth, caring and gentleness in the elder Pylean's song-words.

"That was a truly lovely song, Lorne."

"Not as lovely as you, my little blackcurrant," Lorne replies quietly.

A little while later, when he's sure the sensitive teenager has completely calmed down from the night's dramatic episode, Lorne ventures, "Kylar, Connor told me something before…Is it true? That you wanted me to kiss you?"

"Yes," Kylar admits shyly, drawing back to meet Lorne's enquiring gaze. "I have wanted that for a long time."

"Why didn't you say something?"

The pretty demon bites his pierced lip. "I was afraid."

Lorne's smooth brows knit together in puzzlement. "Of what?"

"That you would reject me."

"Oh, Lordy. Connor was right. For an Empath, I'm so effing stupid," Lorne despairs, shaking his head and rubbing exasperatedly at that spot between his horns. "That's exactly what I was afraid of as well."

A light frown mars Kylar's youthful forehead as he stares at Lorne. "I do not understand."

"I've wanted to kiss you too, Kylar. God, you have no idea how much I've wanted that," Lorne adds in frustrated regret. "But I didn't do it because I was supposed to be your guardian and nothing more. Plus, there's the matter of me being fifteen years older than you. I thought if I tried to get too close, I'd scare you and you'd push me away."

"I would never push you away, Lorne. Not for any of those reasons." Kylar touches the other male's arm in sympathy. "I do not care how old you are or what your legal title towards me happens to be. Guardian or not, I have wanted to be closer to you in every way possible. I do not want that with anybody else."

"Not even Connor?" Lorne queries, recalling the needy way Kylar was clutching at the other boy's shoulders only minutes ago.

"Connor is my dear friend. That is all. When I was kissing him, I was thinking of you."

"What about Angel? Are you attracted to him?" Lorne then asks, needing to know once and for all. He's seen the worshipful way Kylar occasionally looks at the hotel's handsomely immortal owner.

"Angel?" Kylar appears perplexed. "But he's Connor's father. And he is dead and cold. Why would he attract me?"

"Because he's so dark and brooding and…" The tri-sexual male stops when he realises that Kylar just doesn't get it, the whole mysterious vampire allure. "You actually don't see that?"

"See what? It's YOU I desire, Lorne," Kylar confesses with yearning in his face. "It's always been you. That's why I got the labret piercing – so you'd notice me. So you'd kiss me."

"That's really what you want?"

"It is."

"Fine," Lorne mutters recklessly, deciding to demonstrate some balls and just do it, grabbing Kylar by the face and crashing their mouths together. Determined to erase Connor's make-out memory and replace it with his own, Lorne proceeds to show Kylar what it's like to be kissed by a REAL man!

Surprised and thrilled by the sudden move, Kylar emits an ecstatically muffled moan, lifting up on his toes and curling girlish fingers around the back of Lorne's neck to hold him there, Kylar's golden lip-ring caught and pressed between them both. Shutting his eyes with dizzy euphoria, he lifts his chin to more easily meet the taller male's lips, wholeheartedly accepting the demanding kiss and giving it back, grateful that he now knows how to.

When Kylar opens his mouth in submission, it is instantly filled with Lorne's tongue, the older demon dominantly claiming Kylar for himself, just as the eighteen year old youth had been ever so patiently waiting for. Connor's kisses were nice but Lorne's are hotter, harder, deeper and more possessive, making Kylar's heart pound and head spin as though he was holding his breath underwater.

Lorne tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, like everything adult and sophisticated and masculine, and even though the teenager has sampled some truly delightful delicacies here on this world, Lorne's mouth is the most intoxicating thing he's ever tasted. It's better than sugar, better than caramel or chocolate, even better than bubbly white wine made of the finest grapes. Though it is almost impossible for Kylar to get drunk on this dimension, he believes he could, just by kissing Lorne.

Standing chest to chest in Kylar's room, the two perfectly-matched Pyleans finally give in to their magnetic attraction, their tongues chasing and following each other's - engaging, entwining, separating and then meeting again, stroke after deliciously wet swirling stroke. Softening and slowing his kiss, Lorne wishes he'd done this sooner; Kylar's eager response is sweeter and more satisfying than a mountain of rum-soaked plum pudding at Christmas time.

Eventually, the thirty-three year old male draws back with a last tender peck, leaving Kylar giddy, almost drugged.

Brushing his thumb over the moist swell of Kylar's pierced bottom lip, Lorne whispers, "I hope it was everything you wanted."

"Oh, it was," Kylar breathes back, head still spinning. "Even more."

He gazes at Lorne adoringly, admiring the spectrum of colours on the other Empath's face; deep green markings on his forehead and the side of his cheeks, lips so richly matt-red, underneath his eyes tinted black as night and dark maroon shadowing Lorne's upper lids, reaching right up to his brow bone. The dramatic, velvety hues are almost like human make-up except it is all real and unique and so very attractive to Kylar. A lot of folk on Pylea have little or no facial colouring apart from the tone of their skin and aren't interesting to look at in the slightest but then Lorne isn't like them. He's not like anyone else on that world or even in this one. He's vibrant, flamboyant and distinctively individual and that's precisely what Kylar loves about him.

With shy motions Kylar lifts up his shirt and pulls it off over his head. He then walks over to the bed and lays on it belly-down, moving his hair to the side and casting an inviting ruby-eyed glance at Lorne. Any other guy would see a half-naked fruit ripe for the plucking but all Lorne can see are the whitish strips of scar tissue running down Kylar's bare back.

Frowning at the disturbingly provocative pose, Lorne asks, "What are you doing?"

Kylar's lashes lower. "I am submitting myself to you."

"No, no, no. Don't do that," Lorne quickly dissuades, tugging at the kid's arm. "Get up. Get up!"

Sitting up in confusion, Kylar questions disappointedly, "You do not find me desirable?"

"Of course I do. You're the prettiest creature on all the known dimensions," Lorne replies in a gentle tone, slipping the boy's shirt back on and covering the soft, pale skin of his chest and tiny nipples. "It's just that you're so young and have so much to learn yet. You shouldn't just offer yourself to me without thinking about it first."

He sighs and sits on the bed, raking a hand through the bleached spikes of his short hair, once again wishing Kylar was just a bit older. And less damaged.

"It would be wrong for me to take you like this, before you're really ready. Keep your virginity for a while longer, okay?"

"I don't posses that virtue anymore," Kylar reveals. "Though I have not been kissed before this night, I have known what it is like to be mated with."

"Wait - you're NOT a virgin?"

The teen shakes his head. "I am not. I had my innocence taken from me three winters ago."

Lorne pales under his horns as he calculates Kylar's age back then. "Oh God, don't tell me that the farmer…that he actually forced you…?"

"No, not him. His third son - Gennsendar. And he never took me by force – I consented. He was the only one in his clan who was nice to me. He would bring me water, food, poultices for my wounds. But only when nobody else was in sight. He knew that if he was caught helping me, he would be stoned to death or thrown into the valley of the Drokkens to be ripped apart limb by limb. Gennsendar would come to me at night. I let him touch me. Take me." Kylar's eyes drift downward, remembering the long-haired warrior and the secret soft side that contrasted with his muscled, battle-scarred appearance.

"It was not entirely unpleasant; he was usually gentle. One day he was out hunting with the other warriors and was killed by a Flame Beast. When I heard, I was sad for him. His visits were the only kindness I had been given."

He looks back at Lorne. "Until now."

"You don't have to repay me, lime-green jelly bean. Not at all. I don't know how many times I've told you that."

"That is not what I am doing. I am offering myself to you because I want to. You want to be with me also," Kylar says, touching Lorne's hand. "I can feel it. Your body sings to me."

"Damn empathics," Lorne mutters, turning a deeper hue of green, the demon equivalent of blushing. "But still, just because I desire something, that doesn't mean you should give it to me whenever I want. That's not how relationships work in this world."

"I know that," Kylar responds, wishing he could make Lorne understand that he is not a child with a crush. "On Pylea, I was a traitor, a murderer. A runaway slave. I could not go back to my village. I stayed hidden there in the woods, waiting for the portal to open, waiting for the moment when I could get out of that place forever. The thought of a new world and a new life kept me going, kept me alive. I hid there for over a year and a half, living off berries and nuts and sleeping in a cave, risking death every night not only from cavern-spiders and other dangerous creatures of the forest but from the very hands of my own people."

Kylar's eyes are big and earnest. "I did all that because I wanted to see you again, Lorne. I wanted to go wherever it was that you went. I wanted to hear the sound of your voice and be near you. Be with you. You were my hope, my light in the darkness. I wanted you above everyone else in the universe and I still do. Look into my soul and see for yourself."

With that invitation, Kylar opens his psychic channels, allowing Lorne to view every corner of his being. Amazement widens Lorne's eyes as he probes the boy's mind and realises that everything Kylar has been saying is true. He can tell that the kiss with Connor was simply an experiment, just a lesson, like those learnt in Kylar's tutoring sessions. Whatever arousal Lorne felt in Kylar's aura earlier, it wasn't for Connor. As for the demon-boy's feelings towards the resident blood-drinker of the hotel, they are strictly in the form of hero-worship, the same as a sports fan towards their football idol. Kylar admires Angel's strength and believes him to be great and noble champion; however, he has no desire to see the vampire naked or to be intimate with him. The attraction is simply not there. That fact is as plain and blunt as the horns on Kylar's head.

Or his dreadlocks. Thanks to their empathic connection Lorne suddenly understands why they are so important to Kylar and why he wouldn't let Cordy cut them off. Each matted, twisted rope of hair represents one winter. There are eight of them in total. Eight long winters. Alone. Counting. Waiting. Hoping.

"Yes," Kylar affirms, divining Lorne's thoughts. "Each one of these is one year."

Kylar reverently captures a single berry-coloured cord, gently letting it slip through his fingertips. He looks at Lorne, his gaze honest and open.

"That's how long I have loved you, Krevlornswath."

Lorne is stunned speechless by this revelation. That means Kylar has been in love with him since the boy was ten. How could a mere child know anything of love? How could a mere child choose their future partner above all others in the world when they haven't even begun to live life yet? But even back then Kylar knew that Lorne was the mate for him. He knew it the moment he first heard Lorne sing. That voice – that strange yet beautiful sound - filled Kylar's neglected, downtrodden soul with utter joy and happiness, captivating him forevermore. He quietly followed Lorne and watched him in secret whenever he could, at least until Lorne disappeared. Kylar saw him get accidentally sucked into the portal and though the boy didn't know what it was at the time, he knew Lorne had gone to a much better place and vowed one day to join him.

Even when Kylar was sold into slavery and a gruelling, back-breaking workload consumed most of his time, his every spare thought still consisted of the handsome older man and seeing him again. Even as Kylar was being whipped and beaten on the filthy, muddy ground, he kept thinking of Lorne's smiling face to distract himself from the pain. Even as the farmer's son took Kylar's body in the stables at night, in his mind Kylar was picturing Lorne making love to him.

The only one Kylar wanted, and has longed to be with for eight whole years, is standing right in front of him.

And now Lorne knows it too.

"Crap, here come the waterworks," Lorne sniffles as his eyes fill with tears, greatly touched by Kylar's undying devotion. "Oh, sweetheart. I had no idea you felt that way about me…"

"Well, I do. I love you, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan. And I have waited many moons to find you." Expectantly, Kylar holds out a hand. "Will you be my life-bound partner?"

"My beautiful peach-pie. You don't even have to ask," Lorne answers emotively, taking the kid's delicate hand and squeezing it. "I've been yours since the day we met and I will be yours for ever."

"I cannot give you any spawn," Kylar says remorsefully. "I am not female and am not capable of breeding."

Lorne waves away his concern. "Ah, I never wanted spawn anyway. I looked after Connor when he was a screaming baby and that was plenty enough for me."

"Then you will mate with me tonight?"

"If you're absolutely certain it's what you want."

"I'm absolutely certain. As humans say: 'One hundred and ten percent'."

"Then you got it, babydoll," Lorne breathes excitedly, cupping the younger Pylean's face with both hands. "But no lying on your stomach. I want you to look at me when we do it, okay?"

"Okay," Kylar agrees. "I like looking at you. You are very, very handsome."

Hardly daring to believe it, Lorne asks, "You think so?"

Kylar nods. "I believe the human football player and undergarment model David Beckham is the epitome of male beauty in this dimension but you are far more eye-catching than him, Lorne. He lacks colour and his nose is too small. His voice is also beyond atrocious."

"You think I'm hotter than David Beckham?"

Smiling, Kylar caresses Lorne's masculine jaw. "Yes. I do."

"Thank you, ruby-lips. You've just made me the happiest demon alive," Lorne gushes, pulling Kylar into his lap and kissing him again, intending to thank the boy for his compliment in the most enjoyable (and least clothed) way possible.

…

A/N: Sorry for leaving it there but I will continue again soon! Thanks for reading.


	14. Never Alone

Part 14. Never Alone

As they're exchanging fervent kisses with two pairs of wine-red lips, Lorne leans backward onto the bed, taking Kylar as he goes so the kid ends up on top of him. Kylar's figure is supple and warm beneath Lorne's caressing hands, the youth's long rippling hair veiling the demon couple from any outside distractions. All they want to do is get closer, lost in their own private world of love and sensuality. Violet-shaded eyelids closed in dreamy arousal, Kylar instinctively butts heads with his handsome partner, lightly grating his mahogany-coloured horns against Lorne's slightly larger ones, the erotic contact of bone on bone sending chills down the napes of their necks. Lorne hisses something blasphemous, eyes rolling back with the indescribable sensation shooting along his spine.

Humans have no idea how sensitive their horns are and that's why it really fucking hurt when he got his right one broken off in a scuffle with some of Wolfram & Hart's henchmen a while ago. Took him more than a few days to grow it back. All that pain and lopsidedness was worth it because now he and Kylar can rub both of theirs together and the feeling is simply exquisite.

This kind of nuzzling is called hornplay and it also includes touching, stroking and kissing of the aforementioned appendages. It's something demons do before sex, but not always. Because it's such an extremely personal ritual it is usually reserved for when a couple care deeply for each other. As well as being highly sensual, taking the time to caress the points of someone's demonic heritage proves how much you value and accept them for who (or what) they are.

Proving this, Kylar shifts forward to place a soft kiss onto Lorne's left horn. Lorne moans, not only because of the intimate gesture, but also because Kylar is now sitting directly on Lorne's male stiffness, the boy's bottom unwittingly wriggling against it as he moves.

Kylar can tell that his actions are pleasing to Lorne and it is very satisfying. Normally completely submissive, Kylar's never done this sort of thing to anybody before but the instinct to give pleasure to the one he loves runs deep in his veins. Wanting to please the other man even further, Kylar rubs his parted lips against Lorne's blunt-tipped horn, its texture like petrified wood, but warmer and more alive. Lorne shivers, his belly tightening. He can feel the heat of Kylar's breath, straight through the hardened bone protruding from his forehead. He can feel the scrape of a gold-plated lip-ring. And he wants more. Lifting his hips, he grinds up into Kylar's jeans-covered rear, his fingers digging into the kid's slim thighs. Gasping softly, Kylar intuitively pushes back into the hardness he feels behind him.

"God, Kylar…" Lorne groans, the clothed friction against his straining erection driving the more educated Empath to the brink of madness. He's no stranger to sex but after wanting this with Kylar for so long, Lorne's passion can barely be contained, rolling under his skin like another entity trying to get out. He's almost about to pop like a champagne cork and they're not even undressed yet!

Not realising how close Lorne is to losing it, Kylar slowly swipes his tongue along the dark red curve of the first male's horn, in imitation of another more sexual act. The erotically hot feel of Kylar licking one of his second most-sensitive organs is enough to shatter Lorne's self-control.

"Fuck," he gasps, stiffening beneath Kylar. "Oh fuck, no…"

Crushing the kid close to the front of him, Lorne urgently presses into that delectably firm little ass, the older demon shuddering with mind-numbing ecstasy as he comes in his own pants, helplessly and uncontrollably.

Afterwards, he hides his face in Kylar's hair, groaning with weak shame but the smaller youth draws back, staring at him with astonished eyes.

"Lorne? Did you just…?"

"Yeah." The singing Pylean cringes at the wetness in his shorts. "Well, that was embarrassing. Anyone would think I was the teenager here!"

"Was it because of something I did?" Kylar asks anxiously.

At that, Lorne can't help flashing a mischievous, white-toothed grin. "Yes. You're guilty of being far too young, hot and sexy for a boring old crooner like me."

He squeezes Kylar's butt teasingly.

"You're not boring or old!" Kylar protests as he's lifted off the front of Lorne's body and set back down on the bed. "You are in the prime of your life, Krevlornswath. You are full of energy and will live for many, many years yet. More than any human will."

"I know, sweetness. I just got a bit too excited there with you sitting on me. Give me a few minutes and we can continue right where we left off," Lorne promises, hopping from the bed and heading to the bathroom to clean himself up. "Don't you dare go anywhere!"

Flattered that he can make someone as knowledgeable and experienced as Lorne have the equivalent of a waking wet dream, Kylar smiles and touches his lips. They are still tingling from Lorne's kiss. He plops backwards on the mattress, still smiling, his wavy hair spread out behind him like a mulberry halo, and waits for his lover to return and undress him.

There is a scratching, tapping sound on the window. Thinking it's Fredelia wanting to get back in after her nightly feed of nectar, Kylar goes up and pulls the curtain across. It's not his pet bat. Instead, there is another winged creature hovering outside. Two of them, in fact. Immediately recognising their pale faces and hoods of ebony hair, Kylar drops the velvet drape closed, hand covering his gasping mouth.

The Ho'kio twins have flown up to his room! How did they know which one was his? Why are they here? And why does his heart race so alarmingly at the sight of them?

They tap again, politely, and Kylar takes a deep breath and gathers his courage, wanting to prove that the incestuous pair have not gotten under his skin, that they do not frighten or intimidate him. As for the sexually intense dreams he's had about them, well, they are just that. Dreams. They did not happen. These brothers have not seen him naked so he has no need to feel shame either.

Pulling the curtain to the side, he opens the window a crack and cautiously peers out. Slowly flapping their wide ebony wings, the twins smile at Kylar with fanged teeth, seeming pleased to see him.

"Good evening, little spawn."

"My name is _Kylar_." The boy keeps his voice even and aloof. "What do you want?"

"We wish to speak to you. It's very important."

"You should not be here. Lorne would not be happy."

"We know. That's why we need to talk. May we please come in?"

Kylar thinks about refusing but in the end his innate courtesy and civility wins out so he pushes the window open fully and steps back.

"You better be quick," Kylar warns them. "He's in the shower."

"Oh, really?" The twins slide their slinky, leather-wrapped bodies over the windowsill, staring lustfully at the closed bathroom door. "What a pity we can't join him."

While they're busy thinking about Lorne naked, Kylar grabs a thin, sharp dagger from his desk, pointing it threateningly towards the unexpected guests standing in his room.

"I will listen to what you have to say. However, if you try anything, I will spear you both like roasted pigs."

The mostly-identical demons grin at each other. "The little spawn has spirit. We like that. May we sit?"

Kylar nods warily, keeping the dagger out in front of him. They are both so tall and they look strong. But he will fight them if he has to. He needn't be anxious as the black-haired brothers do not seem in a fighting mood, folding their six-foot-wide webbed wings away, the skin-slits on their back sealing up instantly. The big one sits first in an armchair, the slimmer Ho'kio draping across his knees like a panther, one lean arm slung around his brother's neck.

"We were dismayed to learn of your recent illness, Kylar. Are you all right?"

Dragging his eyes away from the pretty one's incredibly long legs and high heeled boots, Kylar stiffly replies, "As you can see, I am fine. Thank you for your concern."

"You have a scar." The feminine-faced demon indicates to Kylar's neck with a pointed nail. "From the vampire."

Automatically, Kylar touches the two fang marks. Sometimes he forgets they are there.

"I know you helped me on the night I received this," the purple-haired Pylean reveals quietly. "I do not remember being carried by you or flown across the city, but Connor informed me of your aid. You both have my gratitude."

"It's the least we could do. It was our fault you got bitten. If we hadn't spoken to you the way we did, you would not have sought vengeance in such a manner or put yourself in danger."

The brunette brothers are gazing at him with matching expressions of remorse in their glittering eyes. Kylar can sense their guilt and that this is something that has bothered them for a while.

"You were not to blame," Kylar replies in a kinder tone, lowering the dagger. "I wasn't thinking clearly and hesitated when I should have struck. I have not made that mistake again."

"We still feel responsible. And we wish to apologise."

The twins speak as one person, switching back and forth between sentences, reading each other's minds and knowing each other's sentiments.

"We did not know that we were keeping Lorne from you that night. He spoke of somebody waiting at home for him but we did not listen. He wanted to go back to you but we would not let him leave. We did not know how strong his feelings were for you or how much you needed each other."

The Ho'kio's exchange a meaningful glance. Their closeness is very much evident to Kylar, as is the strength of their connection.

"Had we known, we never would have done what we did, or said those words back at the club. We know we seem evil and malicious but we only want to give people pleasure, not cause pain. We are truly sorry for offending and upsetting you. We never wanted to see you get hurt. Do you believe us?"

Putting the dagger down on his study desk, Kylar nods at the twins again, genuinely touched by the sincere concerned regret he senses in their auras.

"Yes. Your apology is accepted."

The elf-eared brothers bow their dark heads in solemn thanks and as a mark of respect, veil-like black hair obscuring their faces. When they look back up, the naughty sparkle is back in their eyes, their lips twitching upwards in impishness.

"We have thought of you often, Kylar. You intrigue us and your green-skinned beauty is unmatched by anyone we've seen before. We would very much like to be friends with you."

"With Lorne too, if he ever speaks to us again," the larger of the two adds. "We know how much damage we did to you and your relationship with the Host and would like to make it up to both of you. We would love it if all of us could be friends."

"Close friends," the womanly twin emphasises in a purr.

"Very special friends."

"Friends who play together."

Kylar's face heats up at the low timbre of their voices. He knows exactly what they're suggesting.

"We would like to forward this proposal towards Lorne as well but since he isn't talking to us at the moment, we will leave it in your lovely little hands. You can tell him we came to you and offered."

"Or not," the manly brother suggests with a broad-shouldered shrug. "It is your choice. We do not wish to cause any more trouble between you two."

"Don't worry, beautiful spawn, we will not pressure you or seek you out again. We will wait for you to find us. If you wish to accept our offer, you know where we can be found. At least Lorne has not banned us from entering his club."

"Just from entering HIM," the bigger male quips with an arched brow. They look to each other and laugh deviously.

Growing sober, the Hok'io couple cast a wistful glance at the closed bathroom door and the sound of running water behind it. "We miss the Host. Please tell him that. And that we're sorry."

Nodding, Kylar promises that he will, wanting them gone before Lorne gets out of the shower. Kylar's seen enough drama and anger for one night.

The twins get out of the armchair, stretching their lithe, long-limbed bodies for no reason at all other than to entice. When they move, the leather bands of their outfits shift and slide across moonlight skin. Though he tries not to look at what they're so obviously showing off, Kylar catches alluring glimpses of pale grey nipples, angular hipbones and smooth, navel-less white stomachs. They let their wings slip free and unfold to full length. It sounds like umbrellas being unfolded. Just before the flying demons take off out the window, they look curiously at Kylar.

"So, have you been enjoying your dreams about us?"

Kylar feels the blood drain from his cheeks with shock. In a bewildered whisper he asks, "How…how do you know about them?"

"Because we put them there." The prettier twin smiles. "When I licked you that day, I sent a powerful amount of pheromones into my saliva. They sunk into your skin and kind of 'infected' you. It means we have an erotic link between us now."

"We do that sometimes so people don't forget who we are," the bulkier brother informs Kylar. "We only do it to those we really admire and want to see again."

"It also means we can invade your dreams and help you explore your sexual fantasies in a safe and harmless environment." A pierced tongue slips out over black lips, sensually moistening them. "We very much enjoy doing that with you."

"Oh Gods…Lorne," the teenager breathes in mortified horror, thinking of the dreams where his guardian has been present, seeing the all the pornographic things Kylar and the twins have been doing in their minds together. "Does that mean he's been watching us this whole time?"

"No. Lorne has not been there. That part has been your creation, your secret desire. Never fear, we won't tell him."

"Do you invade his dreams too?"

"We've tried but he won't let us," the more masculine twin says sadly. "He pushes us out."

"But we're glad you don't," the effeminate one chimes in. "You're very passionate and we love being with you, Kylar, even if it's just in your head. Nevertheless, when you're ready to know what it's like to be with us for real, please ask. We'll be more than happy to help you explore your desires in person."

"If you want us, we will come." The two demons both smirk seductively, eying Kylar's slender figure from head to toe. "As many times as you like."

And with that last bold invitation, the musky-smelling twins dive off the windowsill with wings spread and soar away into the night like gargoyles come to life.

Kylar stares out after them, his mind still reeling with what they just said.

Not only have they been invading his dreams, but they want to have sex with him and Lorne together. All four of them, in one bed. If Kylar is completely truthful with himself the idea is more than a little fascinating. The twins certainly are attractive. If they can sleep with other people and not harm the depth of their devotion for each other, or break the bond of their intimate partnership, then why couldn't Kylar and Lorne do that too? Then there would be no need for jealousy or keeping secrets. Everyone could just share their love with everyone else. Openly and honestly.

But first, Lorne and Kylar really need to share their love with each other before bringing anyone else into the picture.

…

When the taller Pylean emerges from the bathroom, he is wearing one of Kylar's bathrobes. The fluffy white cover-up is too small for him and gapes at the chest but it won't stay on long anyway. He pauses, sniffing the air.

"Was somebody just here?"

Biting his lip, Kylar contemplates telling a small fib in order not to trouble Lorne but he knows that the truth is the only option. The other Empath would soon figure out who the scent of musk belongs to anyway.

"The twins," Kylar confesses, glancing towards the window. "I just spoke with them."

"You actually let them into your ROOM? For goodness sakes Kylar, don't you realise how dangerous those guys are?" Lorne exclaims, rushing over to the sliding window and making sure it's shut properly and that the Ho'kio pair aren't still hanging around outside in the courtyard like overgrown cockroaches.

"They did not harm me. They only wished to apologise for what happened back at the club. Do not worry, they are long gone now."

Letting the curtains fall closed, Lorne turns back around, a concerned crease in his brow. "And they didn't touch you in any way?"

"No. They were very respectful and kept their distance."

Snorting, Lorne remarks, "That'd be a first. So, what else did they want? I'm sure they didn't fly all the way over here without some alternate agenda. I know how their perverted little minds work."

Flushing a bit, the teenager admits, "They said some other…things. The main point is, they apologised and I accepted. I do not have any ill feelings towards them anymore and I am glad for that."

Lorne blinks at the eighteen year old youth, marvelling at his gentle grace. "But you nearly died because of them. How can you be so forgiving?"

"Because hate is bad. Any negative emotion is bad. If you hold onto it, it's like venom in your blood, poisoning you from the inside. You need to forgive them too, Lorne." Kylar touches Lorne's arm, below the too-short robe sleeve, his eyes soft with empathy. "Most of all, you need to forgive yourself."

The older male swallows, wondering when Kylar turned into such a know-it-all psychiatrist. But the kid is correct. He's always correct. About everything.

Changing the topic, Kylar suggests, "We don't have to discuss this now. Tonight is all about you and me, Krevlornswath. This is OUR time."

He leads Lorne back to the bed, purposely demonstrating what he means.

"You're right – forget them. I'd much rather discuss what I'm going to do with YOU, sweet-cheeks," Lorne murmurs mischievously, climbing onto the mattress with Kylar and skimming a hand along the younger boy's thigh. "Now, how hard are those skinny jeans to get off? Like peeling a banana?"

Kylar smiles, lying back permissively. "I'm not a banana."

"Oh, but I could eat you like one," Lorne teases, lifting up the front of Kylar's shirt. "Yum, yum. Look at that tum…"

Laughter fills the room as Lorne playfully tries to bite Kylar's exposed belly.

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Lorne? Kylar? You guys in there?"

Lorne lifts his head, scowling. "Aw, you gotta be kidding me," the psychic mutters, cursing his rotten luck and lack of own clairvoyant abilities in seeing this disruption coming. "We'll finish this in a minute, sweetie, okay?"

"Okay." Kylar watches Lorne go to the door. Opening it, he sees Wesley standing there.

"What?" Lorne demands in annoyance.

"Sorry for the interruption," Wes says, glancing at the small-sized bathrobe that Lorne has on, "but we have a serious Drokken problem."

Getting rid of big, drooling ogres is normally Angel's jurisdiction, so Lorne questions impatiently, "And you're telling me this why?"

"Because they destroyed your club."

"Shit," Lorne swears, only just having gotten the place cleaned up after the last disaster.

"But it gets worse," Wesley continues with a worried look on his stubbled face. "We're pretty sure there's two of them on the rampage this time. There's four people dead already and six injured."

"Shit," Lorne swears again, hating when there are human casualties. He rubs at his forehead in agitation, feeling a headache building. "How did they get here?"

"Probably the same way Kylar did. Though the portal in Caritas."

Kylar is already on his feet in alarm. "This is my fault?"

"No, pear-pudding. Not your fault. Demons portal-jump to Pylea all the time," Lorne explains. "Some races like to hunt us and make fashionable green leather suits out of our skin. When they open portals to get in, it means things can get out too."

"But it could have been my fault. I opened the portal in your club. Perhaps it did not close properly. Perhaps I let the Drokkens out."

"It's true that sometimes portals don't close properly," Wes acknowledges, "but I sincerely doubt it was you who caused the -"

He breaks off as Kylar rushes from the room.

"Kylar!" Lorne yells over the balcony as the boy sprints down the hotel's stairs. "Where are you going?"

"To find them!" Reaching the weapons closet in the lobby, Kylar searches for a suitable sword. "More people could die because of me. I have to stop this."

"Connor and Angel are on it already," the Englishman lets him know, making his way down the wide staircase. "I'm sure they can take care of a couple of Drokkens. Angel has killed one already before."

"You don't know Drokkens like I do," Kylar grimly states, pulling out a long blade and testing its weight and sharpness. "Even a Van-tal and his son may not be able to take two of them down. Especially if they are a breeding pair."

"And what exactly are YOU going to do about it?" Lorne angrily asks, afraid for the kid's safety. "How are you going to stop a pair of vicious creatures like those?"

"I can talk to creatures, remember?"

"Drokkens are savage monsters. All they want to do is kill," Wesley emphasises, remembering the last one that was here. "They won't listen, not even to you, Kylar."

"I have to try. Angel and Connor are my friends," the frantic youth stresses. "I can't sit here and do nothing. I have to help them!"

And then he runs towards the lobby entrance, sword in hand.

"Kylarkmar, STOP!" Lorne barks furiously, gripping the railing with white-knuckled fists. "Come back here this instant, young man! If you set one foot outside you're gonna get yourself grounded for a whole year!"

Kylar ignores him, pushing through the glass doors and disappearing out into the courtyard.

"Dammit to hell," Lorne curses to himself, rushing back to his own room to pull on some pants. Why does Kylar choose tonight to play the hero? Why won't those fucking Drokkens stay in Pylea? Why does this shit always have to happen to Lorne?

And why can't he ever get laid in peace?!

…

A/N: Thanks to Seeing Sasha, GirlWithTheCrowTattoo and Skittles Rainbow Pride for their reviews. Feel free to hate me some more for how I finished this chapter! But you know it'll all be worth it in the end XDDD


	15. Drokken

Part 15. Drokken

By the time Lorne gets to his club (Wesley driving them there at breakneck speeds), it's too late to do anything to save it. Caritas is a mess inside; broken glass, liquor bottles and smashed furniture everywhere. There are holes in the walls and all his mirrors are cracked. It's devastating for Lorne to see his beloved bar in ruins but it's all covered by a great insurance policy and he will replace and repair everything, as he always does. Thanks to the anti-violence spell in place, the Drokken couldn't hurt anyone whilst inside the building, only when it went outside. The portal is still open above the stage, crackling and sending out little bolts of lightning. It won't close until something goes back through it, or someone forces it shut.

Angel and Connor are in the rear parking lot. Angel's shirt has Freddy Krueger-type slashes in the front of it while Connor's arm has been clawed, his sleeve shredded. The father and son duo are battling a large, roaring male Drokken that's jumping from car to car, crushing the tops and hoods of them. It's a bald, hairless grey brute with tiny eyes, pointed ears, a hunched back, razor-sharp claws and a pig-like nose. It also has a small turtle tail. It's big, ugly and hostile. Bits of raw human flesh are stuck to its curved tusks from where it has already fed. It's bleeding from the throat, Angel having struck a fatal sword blow already. He is the only one with enough strength and dexterity to pierce the Drokken's only weak spot. He and Connor are circling and tracking the wounded beast as it leaps around the parking lot, blocking its attacks and keeping the Drokken occupied until it dies so it can't gallop away and maul anybody else.

The second Drokken is nearby. It is a smaller, pregnant female, judging by the distended belly and breasts. Kylar was right – they are a breeding pair. They are crazed and confused and do not know where they are. It's clear to him that the pair did not come here to kill deliberately. They wouldn't have even known what the portal was and just got too close in curiosity. Using his Empath skills, the green-skinned teen has connected with the snarling female and is trying to convince her to go back to Pylea for the sake of the calf. He tells her that she doesn't belong here. She is angry and doesn't want to leave her mate but Kylar telepathically tells the creature that she has no choice. She must leave and go home or she and her calf will be killed. Not by Kylar, though. He throws down his sword to show he's not a threat, and urges her to come with him. He will lead her to safety. Seeming bewildered, the female beast takes a lumbering step towards him.

"Kylar, be careful!" Lorne calls out anxiously from where he's standing behind a dented car, safely back away from those toxic claws and teeth. If he gets bitten, or Kylar does, they will get poisoned and the only antidote lies back in Pylea. The poison is fatal to Lorne's race. Wesley is also there with an axe, the steely-eyed Englishman ready to jump in and help if needed.

"It's okay. I got this," Kylar calmly returns, maintaining eye contact with the pregnant Drokken. If he breaks it, she is liable to turn on him and attack. Possessing talons like a brown mountain bear, the Drokken would easily tear Kylar's slim figure apart. He would get gutted and ripped to shreds in an instant. But if he keeps her under his trance, he can draw her away from her mate and get her back inside the club.

Knowing what Kylar is doing, Lorne is nevertheless worried to death. He'd much prefer it if Kylar just speared the other Drokken with a blade dipped in Thromite and destroyed it altogether but he knows the boy won't attempt to kill a creature that's with child. His heart is far too soft. But his ability to charm and control creatures is strong, Kylar slowly walking backwards into the rear entrance of Lorne's karaoke club with a hand outstretched, the Drokken reluctantly following. Quickly scooping up the sword, Lorne and Wesley trail after her, making sure she goes back inside and that she doesn't touch Kylar in any way.

Pulling at the female's will like a puppeteer with strings, Kylar gets her to cross the floor and climb up onto the stage, near the portal. Her knuckles drag on the ground. As he concentrates his power, the young man's crimson eyes never waver, his face focused and determined, every bit the champion that his clan scorned him for not being earlier. He's so regal and powerful, like a warrior angel, and Lorne is overwhelmed with loving pride at how magnificent the eighteen year old youth is as he does what he was born to do.

Suddenly, the portal flickers unsteadily and Lorne yells to Kylar, "Get off the stage!"

The warning snaps the Drokken out of its hypnotic state and as she glances towards Lorne the eye contact she shared with Kylar is broken. Disoriented and perplexed, she roars through a double-tusked mouth and lashes out with a clawed hand and muscular arm, going for Kylar. Her arm stops in mid-swing, halted by the sanctuary spell as if she hit an invisible force-field around Kylar's body. Even though she can't harm anyone in here, Kylar drops to the floor and trips her with a sweep of his leg, wanting her away from this place. The heavily-pregnant creature sprawls backwards and falls into the open vortex, just as Kylar dives off the stage.

There's a burst of bright light, wind and noise as the portal closes. Lorne and Wesley duck, momentarily blinded. When they look up, blinking, the doorway between two worlds has shut and the Drokken has disappeared with it.

"Way to go, my talented little Empath!" Lorne cheers jubilantly. "You did it!"

He glances the around his trashed club, not seeing the kid anywhere in amongst the rubble.

"Kylar? Where are you hiding, cupcake?"

There's no response. Exchanging an alarmed glance with Wesley, Lorne rushes over to the stage, checking behind the blue curtains. Kylar's not there. He's not anywhere inside the building. He's gone. Lorne whirls around, his pulse racing.

"Please, no. No, no, no," he frantically stammers, staring at the space where the portal used to be, realising what must have happened to Kylar. The brave teenager must have gotten sucked in as the inter-dimensional gateway was closing.

Sucked back into Pylea.

Back into slavery, torture and torment.

"Oh God." Lorne drops to his knees in sickened horror, whispering, "Not again…"

…

Kylar falls down in a field. It's daylight, two suns burning brightly in a blue-grey sky. As the dizziness of portal-travel dissipates, he comes to realise that he knows this area very well. He remembers its scent of earth, cattle and wood-fire smoke. He remembers the colour and texture of the grass, the hum of insects flying through the air and the sound of baying hounds and farm animals in the distance. This is his home world, the place where he was born, the place where he never fitted in. He spent years wishing he was anywhere else but here and now, due to unfortunate circumstances, he's back again.

When he gets to his feet and pushes the hair out of his face, he sees a group of green-skinned demons standing nearby, surprised by his sudden appearance out of nowhere. Kylar realises with a sinking feeling that one of them is his older brother Mordwan. The rest are from his village, part of the group that regularly used to bully him. Though he isn't wearing the same clothes as the locals, they still recognise him, nudging each other and glaring at him with narrowed eyes. They know what he did, how he murdered his 'master' and shamed his clan. That is a crime punishable by death. Kylar has no sword or any other kind of weapon and there are too many of them for him to fight alone. When the other young men start coming towards him, he does the only other thing he knows how to do, his survival instinct kicking back in with a charge of adrenalized fear.

He runs. He runs like hell.

Despite his quickness, they catch up to him and circle him from all sides, cutting off his escape route. Trapped, Kylar stands there in a defensive pose, warily eyeing them off, wondering who is going to attack him first. His brother saunters up, contemptuous arrogance in his expression. He is bigger and taller than Kylar. He has a mean look with his rat-like features and long, stringy brown hair that needs washing.

"How dare you show your face around here, pig-spittle," Mordwan sneers, looking Kylar up and down with open disdain. "You look even uglier than you did before. What's that thing in your mouth? Some kind of slave ring?"

Anger rises in Kylar's gut but he refuses to answer. Mordwan wouldn't understand anyway. The older boy steps up and rips the piercing out with a cruel jerk. Kylar gives a jolt of pain, resolutely gritting his teeth as blood begins trickling into his mouth and down the centre of his chin. Mordwan laughs mockingly and the other boys join in.

"Aw, did that hurt?"

Again, Kylar doesn't answer. He is not going to make a noise or show any signs of weakness in front of these bullies because he knows they feed off it. Thankfully the ring wasn't a complete closed circle, the little ball connecting the two ends having popped away onto the ground when it was jerked out, saving Kylar's lip from being ripped completely in half. Mordwan brings the ring up to his eye, closely inspecting it to see if it's worth any money. Apparently deciding it could be, he stuffs the gold piece of jewellery in his pocket.

"I am Mordwan of the Muthwok clan," the bullying Pylean announces pompously, even though everyone here already knows his name. "As your oldest brother and next in line as head of the family, you should bow down at my feet, Kylarkmar. If you do that and profess your obedience to me, I might not kill you. Although, you should be punished for what you did to your master, you murdering, snake-throwing, lice-ridden piece of offal."

"You're right, brother," Kylar meekly returns, bowing his head after all those insults. "There is something I need to say to you."

"So, let's hear it," Mordwan prompts expectantly, leaning in closer. "What have you got to say, slave?"

"I'm NOT a slave anymore," the younger Muthwok member growls lowly, lifting his head back up and staring his elder sibling right in the eye with angry pride. "I shall never bow to you, Mordwan, or anyone ever again, so you and our entire clan can go jump off a cliff into the Sacrificial Valley for all I care."

While Mordwan is blinking in surprise at that unexpected answer, Kylar quickly swings his arm back and smashes the point of his elbow into Mordwan's mouth, feeling teeth shattering and dislodging, before the other boys wrench him away and wrestle him to the ground, slamming his head into the dirt.

"That's for everything you fucking did to me!" Kylar screams, furiously fighting against his brother's friends, letting out eighteen years of abusive resentment and not caring who hears him swear. "You treated me like shit and I hate you for that! Fuck you, Mordwan! FUCK YOU ALL!"

After spitting out broken front teeth, Mordwan stands there stunned and gaping, blood dripping down his face and neck, not expecting that kind of violent response from his formerly weak, timid little brother. Then his face fills with rage and he advances on Kylar with a toothless snarl. Panting, Kylar struggles on the ground and bucks his slim body with all his might trying to get away but the other village-boys have him securely pinned down, holding his arms and legs. Mordwan bends over, picks up a rock and coldly cracks it into the side of Kylar's head.

That's all Kylar remembers.

…

The male Drokken finally dies of blood loss. Angel and Connor take the massive, heavy body down to the docks and throw it in the ocean before returning to Lorne's club. Gunn has shown up, having been out vamp-hunting with his former gang. As soon as he heard Kylar was missing, he raced straight back here to help. The only people not present are the girls. Angel has not told them that Kylar is gone. He doesn't want Fred or Cordy anywhere near the unpredictable portal in case they too get sucked back in. Pylea is no place for women. The guys, however, are prepared to go back in with swords swinging. They realise Lorne's home dimension is an unpleasant, primitive place full of danger and barbaric brutality but they have to rescue the youngest member of their group, especially since they all know how horribly Kylar was treated there in the past. They're all armed and ready to go but no matter how many times Wesley says the specific words, the portal in Caritas won't open again.

"Battery's gone flat," Gunn declares in disappointment. "That bitch ain't opening anytime soon."

"We'll have to try another hot-spot. Library or movie studio gates?" Wes asks, referring to the two other locations they have successfully opened portals in previously.

"Library's closer. Let's go," Angel announces, his face resolute. "We're not leaving Kylar in that place any longer than we have to. Unlike Cordy, it's highly unlikely he'll be crowned a princess."

Even without being psychic, Lorne knows this to be terribly true. There are a hundred ghastly things that could happen to Kylar if he is caught over in Pylea and since the child is a deserter of his clan, a traitor, just like Lorne is, he will not be treated favourably by anyone who sees him. In fact, the only thing he'll be crowned with is an axe to the neck and the thought of his darling boy being beheaded is enough to make Lorne turn around and sickly throw up into the nearest corner. His stomach cramps convulsively and he retches again, this time puking up the remains of his last cocktail.

Sympathetically, Wes lays his hand on Lorne's back. "You don't have to go back to Pylea again, Lorne. We can go get Kylar for you."

"No," Lorne mumbles, wiping at his mouth and turning to Wesley. "I'm going."

"Are you sure? We understand how difficult it is for you to return to your home world. Nobody will judge you if you don't go."

"I'm going," Lorne repeats grimly. "I'm Kylar's guardian. It's my job to protect him. He needs me."

Wes nods, seeing the demon's determination. "All right. We'll get him together."

…

On the way to the library where the next portal is situated, Angel is behind the wheel of his sleek black Plymouth GTX, Wes is in the front passenger position and in the back seat are Lorne, Connor and Gunn respectively. The roof of the convertible is down and Connor's shoulder-length auburn hair blows back out of his face as they're headed towards their destination.

Lorne turns to the teen, who is staring ahead silently as they travel, a large double-sided battleaxe – his preferred weapon of choice – resting across his lap, the boy's slim fingers absently trailing across the blade, no doubt eager to put it to good use and chop some demon heads off. Normally, Connor never looks worried or anxious about going on a hunt but he does tonight, because he's hunting for his best friend.

His only friend.

Kylar has never judged Connor for being what he is, for what he does or has done in the past and this total acceptance means a lot to the lone slayer. Anyone can see how concerned Connor is for the long-haired teenager he's been spending so much time with and it's quite obvious to Lorne how deeply Angel's son cares for Kylar and his safety.

Lorne clears his throat before speaking to the young hunter. "Connor, about what happened earlier...Kylar explained everything. I completely got the wrong idea about you and I apologise."

"Forget it," the teen replies impatiently. "We got bigger problems now."

"No, I need to say that I'm sorry," Lorne stresses. "Truly sorry. I know you wouldn't use Kylar or hurt him in any way. I realise that now."

"Yeah, well. So you should," Connor returns stiffly.

Even when Lorne caught them kissing and was consumed by jealous fury, he could still tell that Connor was being especially gentle and careful with the pretty Pylean, as if touching something precious and fragile that could easily break, and this is exactly how Lorne feels about Kylar too. Only a thousand times more strongly.

"I need him, Connor. I need to get Kylar back." Lorne gazes imploringly at the aloof youth beside him, the distraught demon's red eyes brimming with tears. In a desperate whisper, he says, "I can't…I can't live without him."

Realising how close Lorne is to losing it, Connor softens, reaching over and grasping the green-skinned male's shoulder in a gesture of support. "It's okay, Lorne. I'll help you find Kylar. We all will. We care about him too, you know."

Nodding appreciatively, Lorne swallows, unhappy about breaking the truce he only just formed with Connor not so long ago.

"Hey, kiddo…" He glances hesitantly at the blue-eyed boy. "Are we still cool?"

"Yeah." Connor nods in a forgiving fashion. "We're cool."

They've stopped at some traffic lights, allowing a truck with a semi-trailer to go past. The lights go green. Just before the car is about to take off, a shadow darkens the entire vehicle, making all the occupants of it look up in bewilderment. The Ho'kio twins are there in mid-flight, large black wings flapping in slow sweeps.

"Let us come with you," the bigger one demands. "We can help."

"Who and what the hell are these guys?" Gunn exclaims with round eyes.

"Don't ask," Connor mutters, narrowing his gaze at the pointy-eared brothers who evidently have been watching them from above, addressing them both in an irritated tone. "Go home, you two. And stop spying on us!"

"We weren't spying. We were simply passing overhead and happened to hear your words." The girlish demon twin is looking at Lorne. "Your boy is missing, Host. We want to help you find him."

"We don't need your help," Connor growls.

"Wherever you're going, we can scan the ground from the skies," the bigger brother says. "We can search for him in places you are unable to reach."

"Lorne?" Angel questions uncertainly, knowing that these pale-skinned twins aren't exactly Lorne's favourite people right now. He's heard all about them and what they did.

Mumbling, Lorne replies, "They're right. Pylea is a big place. We need all the eyes we can get."

"But there aren't any seats left in the vehicle," Wesley points out in a very British manner.

"That's all right," the smaller twin assures. "We can squeeze in. My brother and I are used to getting extremely close with others."

Wes raises an eyebrow, shooting Angel an inquisitive glance. Angel just coughs awkwardly, telling them to get in wherever they can. Reluctantly, Connor and Gunn scoot over closer next to Lorne to create a gap, the larger Ho'kio dropping into the back seat first, followed by his feminine-faced sibling, the two of them folding up their bat-wings and making them disappear back into their bodies. The scent of musk swirls around the car's interior, all the humans noticing it.

Settling in his bulkier brother's lap and crossing a pair of slender, leather-banded legs with high-heeled boots, the womanly twin smiles interestedly at Gunn sitting beside them, displaying small fangs and a flash of silver tongue-ring.

"Hello there, handsome," he/she greets with a flutter of lashes, grazing a long nail teasingly down the back of Gunn's hand. "What's your name?"

Leaning over the seat, a confused Gunn whispers to Lorne, "Hey, is your hot Goth friend a girl or a boy?"

Lorne sighs. "Both."

Frowning, Gunn digests this information for a moment. Shrugging as if that's good enough, the black man smiles back winningly at the sexy demon and answers. "I'm Gunn. Charles Gunn."

"Ooooh," the Ho'kio purrs, admiring the large crossbow he's holding. "Are all your weapons that big?"

Curling his lip, Connor rolls his eyes as the car takes off, hoping his father drives fast and gets to the library quickly so he doesn't have to hear more of this disgusting inter-species flirting.

…

"All right, we're here," Angel proclaims, the black convertible skidding to a stop out the front of a big old building. "Plan of action?"

"Open the portal," Lorne announces, hopping out of the car. "Then jump into it."

"Wait. We're coming with you," Connor states, also leaping out of the vehicle, axe in hand.

"No, we can't all run through at once," Wes insists, remembering the dangers from their previous portal-jump. "We'll get split up or worse, get spliced together."

"Oh no, I'm not gonna get mushed up with all you dudes, like some fourteen-legged freak," Gunn exclaims, stubbornly staying in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "We gotta go in the car, like last time."

Wesley affirms, "He's right. The metal will shield us. It's the only way we can all stay safe and together. But how do we get the car into the library?"

"Through the wall?" Gunn suggests. "We could smash our way in, ram-raid style."

Angel looks aghast at the idea. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, cowboy. Do you know how valuable this vehicle is and how much it costs to repair?"

Gunn shrugs, not really caring. "You're rich, aren't you? You should be, after two hundred years of Grinchin' and saving all yo' pennies."

"I don't have enough saved up to treat collectible cars like battering rams, thank you very much." Thinking of ways NOT to destroy his beloved Plymouth, the vampire muses, "Maybe we should go to the gates outside the film studio. At least it's an empty, clear street and we can drive straight through without any damage to the car or to us."

"Screw this," Lorne says decisively. "I'm going through the library now. You guys head over to the other portal and meet me in Pylea as soon as you can."

He starts to run off, changes his mind and runs back.

"You got another one of those?" Lorne indicates to Connor's axe, feeling as though he shouldn't appear in his own blood-thirsty dimension without some sort of protection.

Knowing the axe would be too heavy for Lorne to handle, Connor offers, "Here, take this," sliding up his pants leg and de-sheathing a sharp commando-style knife with a jagged edge.

Accepting the blade, Lorne nods his thanks and sprints off towards the library.

"Watch your back!" Angel calls out. "You're public enemy number one over there."

"Tell me something I don't know," Lorne mutters, heading for the front door. Using the knife, he pries the lock open, slipping inside and hoping no alarms go off.

The inter-dimensional gateway lies towards the back of the novel-filled institution, in the musty-smelling Foreign Language Books room, behind some tall shelves. Lorne has memorised the vowelless chant which opens it. This time when the words are spoken, the vortex appears straight away, strong winds sucking books off the shelf and into its whirling maw. Without hesitating, the world-hopping club owner steps into it, ready to face his demons and save the love of his life.


	16. Hero

A/N: Thanks to GirlWithTheCrowTattoo for the continued support! You don't know how much it means to me *hugs*

…

Part 16. Hero

As he exits the portal Lorne is prepared and does a cool-looking somersault roll out of it and along the ground. Okay, that's not true; he falls flat on his face. Fortunately, nobody is around to see it except a startled-looking demon-cow whose paddock Lorne unceremoniously drops into. The cow blinks at him, makes a low bleating sound and then continues grazing, chewing up vegetation with blunt square teeth, drool trickling out of the sides of its mouth. Wrinkling his nose at the vile stink of the shaggy creature, Lorne mutters as he get up, "There's one smell I didn't miss." Brushing grass off his suit, the green-skinned man looks around, scanning the fields to get his bearings. There's smoke coming from over the hill and in the near distance he can see a collection of roughly-built huts and shacks. A village. Possibly even Lorne's own village, the one he grew up in and barely survived escaping from. If he hadn't come to Los Angeles Lorne has no doubt that he'd be dead by now, potentially killed by Pylean warriors for being so different or he might have even hanged himself just to end the misery of living in a world without music or gentleness. This dimension gives him all kinds of unpleasant feelings and being back in it really upsets his psyche but it's only going to be a short trip. All he has to do is find Kylar, rescue him and take the kid back to his REAL home.

Closing his eyes and placing his fingertips on his temples, Lorne tries to connect with Kylar using his empathic skills but he can't sense anything from the boy. Hopefully he's all right and is just hiding in a cave somewhere but Lorne has to steel himself for the possibility that Kylar could have been captured and may even be injured, particularly if his family got their hands on him. Knowing his own race and the penchant they have for barbaric vindictiveness, Lorne is convinced that Kylar is still alive because if he has been caught by his clan, they'd want to punish him for his disobedience and see him suffer for a while. Either way, the faster Lorne finds him, the less badly Kylar will be hurt.

Arming himself with the large knife Connor gave him, Lorne jumps over the paddock fence and jogs along a dirt track towards the village. Up ahead he sees a farmer pushing a wheelbarrow full of pumpkin-like vegetables. Jogging over, Lorne grabs the other Pylean by the arm. The farmer stops in surprise, glancing up with cloudy red eyes. He's chubby in the face, has a round belly, short stubbly horns and the same dirty-looking stringy brown hair that most of the locals around here have. Lorne vaguely recognises the man's portly features but he can't place a name. Probably one of his father's neighbours/ale-drinking buddies judging by the extended network of veins in the man's inflamed green nose.

"What's the name of that village?" Lorne demands, gesturing towards the cluster of thatched-roofed huts. Most of the villages in Pylea look the same so he wants to be sure he's in the right place before charging in and tearing everything apart.

Evidently Lorne was right about the man being familiar because he looks Lorne up and down, recognising the younger male by his spiked hair and brightly coloured suit.

"Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan," the farmer says scornfully. "You got some nerve showing up here again after what you did last time, you excrement-eating traitor. The shame you brought your parents will never be forgotten, no matter how many pigs they slaughter in your name."

Pissed off and not in the mood for this shit, Lorne pulls the farmer up by the front of his mud-stained smock, pressing the jagged blade against the soft flesh of the man's double chin. Growling, Lorne says, "Where can I find the Muthwok clan? Answer me right fucking now or the end of this knife comes out of your nasal passage."

Gulping, the demon points with a fat quivering finger. "Over the hill. Fourth hut on the right."

"Thank you," Lorne replies with sarcastic politeness. Then in a swift, savage motion, he brings the handle of the knife down hard against the demon's thick skull, knocking him out cold so he can't raise any alarms over Lorne's return. Leaving the second Pylean slumped unconscious on the ground like a sack of meat, Lorne glances around him to make sure nobody saw that (just the unimpressed cow) and then runs towards the hill, only one thing on his mind.

Saving Kylar.

When he reaches the hut Lorne knows he's in the right place because he can hear children screaming at each other inside. Kylar told him he has seven brothers and sisters. Marching up, Lorne bangs on the door. A demon girl answers, about six years of age, flanked by two smaller toddlers only wearing diapers, food smeared all over their faces and bare feet covered in dirt. Their undeveloped horns are mere stubs.

Addressing the older girl, Lorne questions, "Where's Kylar?"

Stuffing a finger up her nose, the girl replies rudely, "Who?"

"Kylarkmar. Your brother." Lorne grits his jaws, trying to stay patient. "Where is he? Have you seen him?"

"Oh, that worthless bucket of pig-vomit." The girl lazily flicks away a bit of snot. "I know where he is. Why do you care?"

"Because I'm here to take him home."

"He IS home. We've got him chained up in the basement, just like the manure-shovelling cow-slave he is."

"Cow-slave," one of the littler brats parrots.

The girl giggles maliciously, showing rotting teeth. "He's being punished for running away like he did. We can kick him whenever we want. It's fun."

Hearing this, Lorne almost punches her in the face but manages to refrain since she's only a kid. A revolting, nasty kid but a kid, nonetheless.

"Take me to him," Lorne orders.

"You wanna buy him? He's not much to look at but he'll do whatever you want, once you whip him hard enough." There's a greedy gleam in her eye as she says this.

Money seems to be the only motivation that drives these people, Lorne decides. Money and cruelty.

"Yes," he forces out, attempting to hide his increasing anger. "I want to buy him."

"Mother!" The girl bellows over her shoulder. "Somebody wants to buy Kylarkmar!"

A hideous she-demon comes to the door, wiping her gnarled hands on an apron. She's horrid, just like Lorne pictured, with a face like a sun-dried prune, eyes like hard little red stones and a sour, constantly-pursed mouth, like she's sucking on a piece of lemon. Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun and there's no hint of warmth and kindness in her glinting gaze whatsoever. Swatting at the kids, she shoos them away and then squints those stony eyes at Lorne's figure, clearly disapproving of what she sees.

"Who are you?" she snaps.

"An interested buyer. I wish to purchase your spawn."

"Why should I sell it to you?"

She uses the word 'it', like Kylar is so far beneath her he's not even worthy of a gender, let alone a name. It takes all of Lorne's willpower not to Hulk-out and explode.

"Because I require a slave," he returns stiffly, "and I heard you had one available."

"There are plenty of other slaves for sale around here. Go somewhere else." Disinterested, the woman starts to turn aside and shut the door but Lorne shoves his hand against the wooden surface and stops her.

"Well, I want this one."

She frowns in puzzlement at his firm tone. "It's ugly and useless and should have been eaten at birth. Why do you want it so much?"

Using the same non-gendered term as she, Lorne replies, "I heard what it did, how it killed its last master. I enjoy a slave with a bit of resistance to them. I enjoy extinguishing that fire, breaking them down and making them crawl at my feet."

Acting as though he's eager to inflict some pain onto a lesser being, Lorne continues, masking his true feelings with a hard voice and aloof expression. "I can guarantee that if you sell your spawn to me, I'll make sure it gets what it deserves."

After this speech, Kylar's mother starts to think her son is more valuable than she first thought and that she can get more money for him. Lorne can practically see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes.

Pursing her lips, she commands, "I want double."

"Agreed." Lorne waves a careless hand. "Money is of no concern to me. I have plenty."

The woman cocks her head, appearing sceptical.

"Look at my clothes. My jewellery. Do I look as if I live in a shitty little village like this in a shitty little shack like yours?" Lorne says arrogantly, pointing to the rings on his fingers. "I'm from another dimension. A wealthy dimension. Now, let me see what I'm buying. I want to know what condition it's in. If it's too damaged it won't be of any use to me."

The mother snorts as she turns down the hallway. "It probably won't be of any use to you anyway."

Lorne is taken though a house full of scratched furniture, broken wooden toys, strewn clothing and half-eaten food. He doesn't see Kylar's father anywhere. The old man must be down at the local tavern, up to his eyeballs in ale and lamenting how his unwanted, misbehaving boy-spawn has returned to dishonour the family name once again. For people who claim to value their own clan so much, they sure do treat their kids like shit. A gaggle of neglected children follow Lorne down a set of flagstone stairs, including Kylar's older brother, the one who knocked Kylar out with a rock and dragged him back here. They emerge in a damp cellar.

The slender young Empath is lying on the stone floor on his side, his wrists bound with rusted chains that attach to the wall. He's a mess, his pale skin smeared with mud and cow dung, his once beautiful hair tangled and matted with blood, his jeans and T-shirt tattered and filthy. His sneakers are gone, probably stolen by one of the other siblings. Kylar's little sister strides over and gleefully kicks him in the ribs. Kylar doesn't even react, curled up like a beaten animal used to abuse. Witnessing such an unnecessary show of nastiness, Lorne longs so badly to take hold of the girl and smash her spiteful face into the wall until all her rotten teeth fall out but he restrains himself from moving, silent fury seething through his veins.

"Mordwan - get it up," the mother harshly orders. The older brother snarls, showing missing front teeth. He grabs Kylar by the hair and hauls the teen to his knees, yanking his head back with a cruel fist. Though every instinct screams at Lorne to throw Mordwan off and enclose Kylar protectively in his arms, he instead goes over and leans down to the captive boy, pretending to inspect him as a master would inspect a potential slave. Kylar's delicate face is battered, nose possibly broken for what would be the umpteenth time. Three are scratches and grazes all over him and blood has ran down the side of his head. His lip-ring has been torn out and his mouth is bloated and bruised. Even though Kylar is awake, he stares up dully with blank, defeated eyes, like he can't even see Lorne, as if he's resigned himself to his fate.

Keeping up the uncaring pretence, Lorne mutters, "It's bone-skinny and looks like the back end of a miscarrying sow but I suppose it will do. Unchain it."

Pulling a key out of her apron, the mother tosses it to Mordwan, brusquely instructing her elder son to unfasten the locks. Once the chains are undone, Kylar's limp arms fall to his sides, raw chafing marks around both wrists. He stays there on the floor in a kneeling position. When Mordwan backs away, as if disgusted by being related to such a pitiful creature, Lorne moves in to scoop Kylar up. The teenager hardly weighs anything.

"Excuse me! You can't take it without paying!" The mother screeches in outrage as Lorne begins to walk up the basement stairs. "Where's my money?"

Halting, Lorne shields Kylar, pressing him against his chest, one hand over his other ear. The club-owner and singer draws in a deep breath and then lets out an inhumanly high musical note, watching all the Muthwok family members drop like flies at the sound, clutching at their vibrating eardrums and writhing on the ground in pain.

"It hurts!" The little girl screams. "Make it stop!"

Lorne doesn't, not even when blood starts pouring from their ears and all the jam-jars and crockery in the hut shatters into pieces. Mouth open, he keeps producing that same brain-piercing shriek until he's sure that the evil mother and all her vengeful spawn are completely incapacitated and unable to prevent him from leaving. When he finally ceases the noise, the resulting silence in the basement is nearly overpowering. Mordwan is rolled up into a helpless ball, sobbing like a girl and the smaller children have passed clean out, including the mean sister. They'll all recover.

"There's your payment, bitch," Lorne coldly tells the groaning elder female on the ground. "By the way, HIS name is Kylar and you are not worthy to be his mother. I love him more than you ever did, you dried-up old coynt."

Climbing the stairway, the short-haired Empath cuts through the messy shack and emerges outside carrying Kylar in his arms like a romance novel hero. As soon as the warm light from the two suns touches Kylar's skin, the boy stirs and looks up, a faint whisper coming from his dry throat. "Lorne?"

"I'm here, sweetheart." Almost crying, Lorne kisses Kylar's forehead in overwhelmed relief. "I'm right here."

Weakly, Kylar says, "I would like to go home now, please."

"That's what I'm doing, honeycake. I'm taking you out of here and back to where you belong."

A feeble but grateful smile touches Kylar's swollen lips. Then he puts his head on Lorne's chest and closes his eyes, breathing softly but steadily.

Apparently the word of Lorne's return has spread around all the neighbouring villages like a bad case of herpes and an angry chanting mob shows up with pitchforks, sticks, clubs and shovels. In the crowd are Numfar and Lorne's mother, clomping towards him and yelling, "There's the traitorous festering groin-scab! Get him! Cut off his head and mutilate his body!"

"Aw, shit. I really HATE this place!" Lorne despairs, looking wildly around him for a quick exit route. "Where the Groosalugg when you need him?"

Since the powerful and honourable half-human ruler of this world – and Cordy's former blue-eyed hunk of a boyfriend - isn't around to save him, Lorne is unfortunately on his own. It's up to him to protect Kylar, escape the bloodthirsty mob, open a portal and get them safely home.

Yeah. Right. How the fuck is he gonna do all that? He's just a demon, not a magician.

Suddenly, there's the foreign sound of a motor engine. Angel, Wes, Gunn and Connor show up in the car, not bothering to hide it with branches this time, the Ho'kio brothers soaring overhead with broad black wings. The crudely-dressed villagers halt in astonishment and fear, pointing and yabbering about flying devils.

"Guys!" Lorne exclaims happily. "Fabulous timing as per usual."

Angel pulls the Plymouth up beside Lorne, the vampire looking apologetic.

"Sorry we're late."

Gunn jumps out with athletic ease. "We had to fight some horn-heads first. They wouldn't get out of the damn way," the dark-skinned man explains, levelling a loaded crossbow and squinting at the crowd. "Hey, Lorne - is that your mom? The one with the beard?"

"Yeah." Lorne grunts, lifting Kylar over the back passenger door. "Feel free to kill her first."

"All right, you big, green uglies," Gunn yells threateningly. "Anyone moves and they get shot in the eyeball. Got it?"

The crowd roars and shakes their weapons. Wings spread wide and menacingly, the Ho'kio twins land in front of the car, hissing loudly and flicking their tongues in and out of their fanged mouths like snakes, scaring the mob into staying back. For once, Lorne is glad they're here.

With Gunn firing off the odd arrow to keep the maddened villagers at a safe distance, the older Pylean carefully lowers Kylar into the back seat of the Plymouth. Helping Lorne with the injured boy, Connor gazes into Kylar's bruised face and asks worriedly, "Is he all right?"

"He will be once we get him home."

Now that everyone is here, Wesley starts reciting the bizarre phrases from the book back in LA, the short, strange words soon creating a big black whirlpool in the air in front of the vehicle, the paranormal doorway howling with the sound of wind and crackling with mystical electricity.

The simple-minded villagers scramble backwards, exclaiming with terror, not game to go any further towards what must look like a giant monster's sucking mouth to them.

Gunn leaps back into the car, beckoning for the twins to follow him. "C'mon, you guys. Let's get the hell outta here."

Squeezing themselves back into the vehicle the two Ho'kio brothers find spots to sit, the bigger one next to Gunn and the prettier one plonking right down in Wesley's lap on the front passenger seat, slinging slim arms around Wes's neck and flustering the normally unflappable English gent.

As Angel puts the overloaded convertible in gear and prepares to drive off, Lorne blurts out, "Wait! Something I gotta do first."

"Be quick, Lorne," Angel warns him, shooting the demonic crowd behind them a cautious look. "Portal won't stay open forever."

"One minute," Lorne hurriedly promises, gently letting Kylar go into Connor's safekeeping, the wounded demon-child slumping silently against his concerned teenage friend, eyes still closed. "Watch him, Connor."

Connor nods, slipping a guarding arm around the exhausted Pylean youth while Lorne determinedly heads back to where his mother is. She's next to his pudding-headed brother Numfar. They are staying back in a cluster with the other village folk, all of them wanting to attack Lorne and beat him with sticks but too afraid of the whirling portal to get any closer.

"Hello, mother dearest," Lorne says casually as he saunters up to the unattractively masculine woman. "You're looking stunning, as always."

She spits rudely onto the ground, sneering through her straggly beard. "Foul fruit of my loins. How I despise the sight of your face. I should have left you on the maggot pile to rot, you pig-rutting disgrace."

"Missed you too, mom," Lorne drones sarcastically. "Oh, and pigs don't interest me. I'd rather rut with boys. How do ya like them apples?"

His mother's eyes just about bulge out of her big, plump face, her jowls quivering with shock. He then turns to his dopey, dim-witted brother Numfar, standing there with his mouth hanging open like he's waiting for bugs to fly in. All Lorne can think of is how much this moron has celebrated Lorne's disappearance, frolicking with glee around the yard. How can someone so stupid be the favourite son?

"Hey, Dumbfar," Lorne nastily greets him, delivering a sharp, hard kick to the boy's groin. "Do the dance of pain."

Numfar's eyes go crossed and he gives a squeaky breath of agony. Yet, even as he clutches at his damaged balls with both hands, he starts to shuffle from side to side in a ridiculous, crab-like manner which can hardly be called dancing – but he attempts it anyway because he's an idiot who does whatever he's told to.

"You shame our entire clan, Krevlornswath the Traitor," his mother shouts in disgust, pointing a hairy, knobbed finger in his direction. "I knew I should have eaten you at birth. Leave this place at once! Go back to the slime-pit you crawled out of and don't ever return!"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't," Lorne gaily answers. The other villagers join in with various taunts and jeers, jabbing their pitchforks and other crude weapons at Lorne and the rest of the gang waiting in the car but the ignorant green-skinned demons keep their distance, superstitiously wary of the opened gateway to another dimension, not understanding what it is or where it leads to.

"Lorne – move it, man!" Gunn yells, uneasily eyeing the unpredictable portal in front of them. "If this thing closes on us, I'm kicking your lime-green ass and handing you over to your cannibal momma myself!"

"I agree," Wesley calls out urgently, gulping as the pretty Ho'kio twin nuzzles against his rough stubble like a purring kitten. "Time is of the essence here!"

Feeling satisfied with that family farewell, Lorne rushes back to the convertible and leaps into the back seat. Pulling Kylar's fragile figure into his lap, Lorne holds onto him protectively, shooting Angel a glance.

"Go."

Not needing to be told twice, Angel floors the accelerator, the car lurching forward with wheels spinning on the grass, speeding them all through the swirling dimensional exit and out the other side, leaving Pylea and all its nightmarish hostility behind.

…

_A/N: For all my lovely readers, I must tell you that there is only one last chapter to go of this story. You know what that means? That's the chapter with the sex in it! Thanks to those who have stuck around waiting for the big event. I hope it has been worth it. Also, I hope you liked Lorne being the hero in this update. About damn time he got to save somebody, huh? :)_


	17. Home

Part 17. Home

When they get back to the Hyperion Hotel, Kylar is awake and talking, insisting that he's fine, that he's suffered far worse abuse in the past and doesn't want anyone to make a fuss over him because of a simple beating. Even though he looks bloody awful and can barely walk, he's still too proud to admit how hurt he actually is. Still, Lorne and Connor help him up the stairs, the olive-skinned teen limping all the way and clutching painfully at his side. The first thing Kylar wants to do is take a bath and wash the stink of Pylea away. Sitting in the hot tub of water, he thoroughly shampoos the blood and manure out of his hair and rinses the dirt off his face, carefully cleaning his torn lip and sponging his battered body with weak, aching arms. Kylar does all this himself, refusing to ask for assistance.

Though he would gladly give it if asked, Lorne stays outside the bathroom, almost afraid of what he might see if he goes in there. It's a wise decision because Kylar's slender figure is covered in shocking, ugly bruises which are deep purple-black in colour. Lorne gets a glimpse of them anyway when the demon doctor returns to check Kylar over, confirming Lorne's fears about broken ribs, caused by Kylar's spiteful siblings kicking him as he lay on the ground. Kylar also has a concussion from where Mordwan hit him with the rock and the doctor gives him painkillers and medication to help him sleep.

When everyone else has left and Kylar is comfortably resting, Lorne lays in bed next to him, holding one of those small hands and silently crying for what has been done to his beautiful boy. Kylar's face is all bruised and there's a lot of swelling, his mouth puffy and lower lip ripped, his nose lumpy and misshapen. He has a big bump on his head and a couple of blackened eyes. His injuries look bad but he's nowhere near death's door, not like the night he was poisoned by vamp-blood. He just needs sleep and his advanced Pylean healing system will rapidly repair the damage. The bruises will vanish. The swelling will go down. The lump on his head will disappear and soon enough, the nightmare of being sucked back into Pylea will fade away and things can return to normal.

Or so Lorne desperately hopes.

Much later, Kylar stirs and opens his eyes, discovering himself in his own bed. It takes a few seconds for him to realise that he's not dreaming. The room is warm and dim, only a single beeswax candle lit on the bedside table, giving off the rich, homely scent of honey. Spotting movement in the semi-darkness, he sees Fredelia hanging from the curtain rod, his small grey pet busily munching on an apricot held in her hooked wing-tips. Swivelling her head around 180 degrees, she glances at him with shiny black eyes, giving a happy little chatter that he's awake. She was worried about him and how long he had been sleeping. Kylar makes a bat-like clicking sound, letting her know that he's alright. She contentedly goes back to eating her fruit. Turning, Kylar finds Lorne next to him, watching. The older Pylean smiles and places a soft kiss to the teen's hand.

"Welcome back, my little zucchini flower. Sleep well?"

Kylar nods, a mild wave of dizziness washing over him.

"No, don't sit up," Lorne instructs, gently making the kid lie down again. "You'll hurt your ribs. They're cracked."

Belatedly, Kylar realises this, wincing when sharp pain sears down one side of his body. He relaxes back into the mattress, feeling fatigued.

"I seem to make a habit of waking up in bed injured," he replies in a croaky voice. "I am…what would Connor call it? A trouble-magnet?"

"You're never any trouble, alfalfa sprout. And don't you dare go blaming yourself," Lorne answers, holding a glass of water to Kylar's mouth so he can drink and soothe his dry throat.

"Thank you," Kylar replies, licking his lips.

Lorne stuffs another pillow behind Kylar's head, squinting at him in concern. "Do you need to pee?"

"I do not."

"Yeah, you're probably too dehydrated," Lorne mutters, recalling how Kylar was chained up beneath the ground without any food or water. "Drink some more."

When Kylar has emptied the glass, Lorne puts it back beside the bed, worriedly gazing at the recovering boy beside him. "So, what happened, sweetie? When you fell out of the portal, I mean. How did you end up back at your old house? Didn't you try to run into the woods and hide?"

"I did try but I didn't get very far," Kylar answers ruefully. "As luck would have it, my older brother and his friends were right there when I came out of the portal. They saw me, recognised me. I attempted to flee but they soon had me surrounded. I fought against them but there were simply too many. They captured me and dragged me home through the dirt, back to my clan for punishment."

Hearing this, Lorne swallows hard. "This is my fault. I swore I'd protect you and keep you away from that horrible dimension and I failed."

"It's not your fault," the smaller Empath returns kindly, squeezing Lorne's hand. "I got too close to the portal over the stage in your club and it sucked me in. You did warn me such a thing could happen."

"When I searched Caritas and couldn't find you anywhere…I thought I'd lost you forever." Lorne's crimson eyes still seem haunted by that split second in time. "I was so scared, Kylar. I was even more afraid than the night you got bitten by the vampire."

"I wasn't afraid. I knew you would come. I knew you would save me."

The older male frowns. "But when I saw you in that cellar…it was like you'd given up hope. You looked right through me, like you couldn't see me there. You didn't even acknowledge my voice."

"I retreated into myself so they could not get to me," Kylar explains. "They could hurt my body but in my mind I was safe. I sat there and waited for you. And you came."

Incredibly thankful that he arrived in time to save the kid, Lorne hugs him around the neck and vows in a choked-up voice, "I will always come for you, Kylarkmar. Always. No matter where you are, if you need me I will be there."

"I know you will." The younger demon reaches up and touches his guardian's freckled forehead, trying to smooth out the lines of emotion there. "You are my hero."

Swallowing back tears, Lorne replies, "I am, huh?"

"Yes. You are." Kylar smiles fondly. "My champion."

A slow grin forming on his face, Lorne drawls, "You better tell Angel that because he likes to think he's the only champion around here, strutting about like a boss and flexing his bulging muscles all the time."

"A true champion does not need muscles."

"Great, because I have none of those. Except for in my throat. When I really put those muscles to work, people can't even stand up anymore…" Lorne stops and coughs in embarrassment, realising how Kylar could interpret that the wrong way. "What I meant was that I can sing ultra-high and loud. It's sort of my secret weapon. I can knock people down like bowling pins and make glass shatter."

"Yes, I heard that. It was very impressive." Thinking of the moment he was rescued from the family basement Kylar adds, "I also heard what you said to my mother afterwards."

"Oh?" Lorne vaguely remembers calling the old woman a not-very-nice name for a vagina and saying that she wasn't worthy to be Kylar's mom.

"I liked it," the long-haired teenager volunteers. "Especially the part where you said you loved me."

"I do love you," Lorne repeats softly, not afraid to say it any longer. "I know I haven't really told you that, Kylar, but I do. And I don't just mean in a father-son kind of way, either. I love you so much more than that."

Smiling, Kylar answers, "I know. If you didn't, you wouldn't have come back to Pylea for me. I know how much you hate that place." His smile fades. "I must admit I also have a confession to make, Lorne."

"What's that, darlin'?"

"I said the 'F' word, when I was captured. I was so angry at my brother that I said it three times. I said 'shit' too." Kylar's expression turns anxious. "I hope you're not disappointed in me."

"Never," Lorne assures him with a relieved chuckle, kissing the boy's temple. "You can say anything you want from now on, kiddo. I'm just happy to have you home."

"I'm happy too," Kylar whispers, closing his eyes as another wave of dizzying fatigue washes over him. Then, held gently by Lorne's strong, safe arms, he drifts back into healing sleep.

…

Lorne stays by Kylar's side for the next five days, reading to the eighteen year old youth when he's awake, singing to him, bringing him food and brushing his wavy mulberry hair. Even though he's strong enough to brush his own hair and hold his own book, Kylar allows Lorne to nurse him because he senses that it's very important for Lorne to do this. For once, Kylar puts aside his Pylean pride and allows someone else to take care of him. Admittedly, it is quite nice being pampered. Even Fredelia warms up to Lorne, the intelligent mammal seeing how attentive, kind and loving the other demon is being to her young owner. Lorne is quite astonished when she clambers up his arm and perches on his shoulder without trying to bite him. Of course, the banana mocktails that he's been leaving on the bedside table have a lot to do with her attitude change as well. Though it's degrading mixing non-alcoholic drinks for a damn bat, Lorne is just grateful he's not getting swooped or squeaked at anymore.

"Aren't you leaving for work?" Kylar asks Lorne one night, knowing that the club is supposed to be open on Saturday evenings. It's Karaoke Night. And here Lorne is, still in his bathrobe, sitting on Kylar's bed with a goblet of wine in his hand like he's not going anywhere.

"My staff can run the place without me," Lorne replies with a dismissive wave. "I'm staying right here with you, my little cactus fruit. Want some more Merlot?"

"You have missed a few shows now," Kylar remarks as his glass is refilled, Lorne insisting that red wine is good for his health and recovery. "I am not a helpless infant. You do not have to sit with me every moment of every day."

"I know." Lorne shrugs sheepishly. "I just want to spend time with you."

"You have been spending all your time with me lately, Lorne. I do appreciate it. Very much. However, I think you need to get out of the hotel. I can tell you miss performing."

"I don't miss it – I've been singing to you," the musical male insists. "You want another song? What do you want to hear? Anything at all."

"There are people out there who need you more than I do right now. Desperate people," Kylar reminds the other man. "They are waiting for you at your club and rely on your gifts, on your guidance. You can change their lives, Krevlornswath. Tonight, you can be their champion."

The empathic teenager sets his drink aside and lays his hand on Lorne's arm persuasively. "Please go to work. For me?"

When those big ruby-red eyes gaze up at him so imploringly, Lorne is helpless to resist or deny anything that Kylar asks of him.

"Oh, you're right. I'm smothering you, aren't I?" He sighs. "Okay, Appletini. If it's what you want, I'll go to the club."

"Thank you," the boy says with a soft smile. "I shall be here when you return."

"You better be," Lorne replies warningly as he climbs off the bed. "No going out with Connor, okay? And definitely no training. Your ribs are not healed yet."

"No going out. No training," Kylar repeats dutifully. "May I listen to music or watch films in Connor's room?"

Lorne frowns suspiciously. "Only if he doesn't kiss you."

"He won't," Kylar promises his jealous custodian. "He prefers to kiss his model boyfriend Sebastian. I sense that they are very much in love."

"Still can't believe the runt drives stick," Lorne says shaking his head. "Well, if he behaves himself then by all means, go hang out with Connor."

Kylar chews his lip. "You're not still mad at him?"

"Not anymore, apple-crumble," Lorne assures. "We had a little chat and cleared things up. Don't worry; we've stopped trying to kill each other."

"Good." Kylar smiles. "I'm glad."

"All righty, I better skedaddle. Those fortunes aren't gonna read themselves."

After draining the rest of his wine and a quick peck on the cheek goodbye, the clairvoyant business owner leaves Kylar to get ready for his much-awaited return to Caritas. He hasn't seen the place since it was cleaned up after the Drokken attack and is keen to check out the new fittings and furniture, making sure his insurance money has been well spent.

…

Swapping his pyjamas for jeans and a T-shirt, Kylar emerges from his room, walking slowly so as not to aggravate his ribs. The fractured bones are still painful and tender but they are repairing themselves day by day. If he was a normal human boy, he'd be out of action for months but his injuries will heal much faster than that. It will just take some rest and a little time, that's all.

Knowing one way to pass time, he searches for the other person his age in the hotel, finding Connor in the kitchen, mixing up a big glass of flavoured milk. He's just been training, judging by the sweat patches on his shirt.

"Hello, Connor."

The blue-eyed teen glances up and then bashfully looks away again.

"Hey," he mumbles. They haven't really spoken since the night in Connor's room, when they got caught kissing. Both of them clearly remember that, making the energy in the air between them somewhat tense and uneasy. It also doesn't help that the whole hotel knows about it too, thanks to Lorne and Connor yelling at each other, although nobody is daring to talk about the incident.

"Sorry I haven't visited you," Connor mutters apologetically, squirting in some more chocolate syrup and mixing it with a spoon. "I'm not real good with…you know…Sick people."

Kylar nods understandingly, knowing that the other boy feels partially responsible for what happened to him, even though he shouldn't.

"It's all right. I was mostly sleeping anyway."

"You look heaps better." Connor notes how the ugly bruising on Kylar's face has faded, leaving him pretty again. "How you feeling?"

"Sore here," Kylar says, lightly touching the side of his ribcage. "But otherwise okay."

"Want one?" Connor asks, indicating to his tall glass of frothy chocolately goodness.

"Yes, please. That would be nice." As Connor blends up another drink for him, Kylar habitually twists one of his dreadlocks in his fingers, observing the other boy's actions.

"Connor, do you have any new movies we could perhaps watch together? Lorne is working and won't be back until late."

"You really want to?" The demon-hunter turns to Kylar with surprise. "Hang out with me?"

"Of course. You are my best friend and I've missed you."

Mumbling shyly as he stirs the spoon, Connor admits, "Me too."

"Can we go to your room now? Or do you have to hunt?"

"It's okay. I can take a night off." Connor shrugs, handing over the glass of chocolate milk. "The others can go out hunting. They don't need me."

"That's right - we can cope perfectly well on our own," Angel speaks out from across the lobby in his office, having overheard the conversation with his vampire-hearing. "Connor, you take care of Kylar tonight. Go relax. Eat candy or play on your Nintendo or whatever it is that you kids do."

"Nintendo, Dad? Seriously," Connor drawls, passing him by. "You are so technologically retarded."

Rolling his eyes, Connor ignores Angel's protests about how 'hip' and 'cool' he is, leading Kylar up the stairs and down the hallway. Once in Connor's bedroom, Kylar carefully settles into the beanbag that he usually uses, sipping his chocolate drink while Connor freshens up in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, neck and chest, having a quick wash and then towelling off. Kylar always smells sweet, fresh and clean, like roses and berries, and Connor doesn't want to stink of sweat next to his delicately perfumed friend. Pulling on a clean shirt he comes back and takes a seat next to Kylar on the floor, gazing at the Pylean teen who is missing his golden lip ring. Somebody in Kylar's clan must have torn it out, before they shackled him in the basement.

"It sucks that your own family chained you up again," Connor says in an angry mutter. "If I could have been there earlier, I would have killed the whole lot of them before they could even touch you."

"I know you would have," Kylar returns gratefully. "But I don't wish them dead. They are simply products of a violent society and have never known any different. However, I am consoled by the fact that I knocked out my older brother's front teeth before he and the other village-boys captured me."

Connor's eyebrows rise. "No shit? You actually did that?"

"Yes, with my elbow." Kylar tilts his head musingly, remembering the satisfying crunch of bone on bone. "I rather enjoyed it. It felt good to pay him back for all the times he bullied me in the past."

"Kickass," Angel's son remarks, in clear awe of the second teenager. "Wish I could've seen it!"

"I wish so too. You would have been proud of me. Oh, and I have something for you." Kylar digs in his pocket.

"Yeah? What?"

"A gift. A souvenir." Proudly, Kylar hands Connor a tooth, complete with roots.

Staring at the ivory object in his palm, Connor's eyes widen. "Is this...?"

"Yes. I managed to scoop it up off the ground before I was knocked out and taken away. I thought you might like to put it on one of your necklaces."

Connor looks up at Kylar, the auburn-haired slayer grinning with delight. "Wow. Thanks. Best gift ever!"

As he gets an impulsive but gentle hug from the other boy, Kylar grins too, filled with immense pride at having taken his first battle trophy, even if it was from his own brother and even if his brother isn't actually dead. With an equal amount of pride, Connor sits the incisor on a shelf with his collection of ear, claw and tooth-trophies, at least until he can drill a hole in it and string it next to the others.

"Hey, Ky? About the other night, before the whole Drokken thing…" Connor begins hesitantly. "I just want to apologise for what I did. With the kissing."

Kylar blinks in surprise. "You did nothing wrong. You only did what I asked to you."

"I know but I got kinda carried away. I probably shouldn't have stuck my hand up your shirt. Or done other…things." Connor blushes warmly as he recalls pressing his thigh against Kylar's erection. "Sorry."

Also remembering, Kylar smiles, slightly flirtatiously. "I did not mind. What you did was nice."

"Yeah, it was, but we can't do that ever again."

"Why not?"

"Because it was TOO nice, that's why. If I were to kiss you again, I might not be able to stop next time and I have a boyfriend I don't want to cheat on," the hot-blooded hunter argues. "Anyways, we both know it wasn't me you were thinking of that night, Kylar."

A giveaway flush touches the demon teen's olive cheeks. "I didn't realise you were empathic too."

The other boy snorts. "I'm not. I just know how you feel about Lorne. And I know how he feels about you."

"We kissed that night," Kylar confesses. "We were going to mate. But since then, he has not touched me or kissed me again. I have been waiting but he has done nothing. Why do you think that is?"

"Easy. Ever since he brought you back from Pylea, he's been afraid of touching you because you've been hurt and he doesn't want to hurt you again."

"He would never do that," the young Empath insists. "My ribs may be sore but I'm sure there are ways to make love gently."

"He's just nervous, Ky. Seeing you taken away from him has made him lose confidence," Connor surmises. "If you want things to happen between you guys in a romantic way, YOU have to initiate them now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, make yourself available to him."

"But I am already available." Kylar sounds confused. "I am here all the time."

"Yeah, but make it even more obvious. Make it so Lorne can't not notice you."

"How do I do that?"

"You know…just..." Connor gestures helplessly. "Dress up in something you know he'd like. Turn the lights down. Get close to him. Tell him exactly what you want. Once he realises what you're offering, he won't refuse you."

"He will take me to bed?"

"In an instant." Connor does not need fortune-telling skills to predict how Lorne would respond because beneath the flashy suits, green skin and pointy forehead accessories, Lorne is just a guy and guys rarely ever turn down sex, especially not with someone as gorgeous and seductive as Kylar.

Connor certainly wouldn't, if he didn't already have a gorgeous boyfriend of his own.

Pondering these suggestions for a moment, Kylar answers doubtfully, "I don't know if I can do all that. I do not think I am brave enough."

"Yes, you are. You were brave when you led away that angry Drokken. You were brave when you smashed your own brother's teeth out. C'mon, you got sucked into a hell dimension, got chained up and beaten by your family and still you survived and made it back here without losing your mind or letting them break your spirit. If that's not bravery, then I don't know what is. You faced your worst fears, Kylar. Surely you can't be afraid of anything now. Especially not Lorne."

Put in such a concise way, it's almost impossible to refute Connor's logic.

"You are correct, Connor. I have nothing else to fear." Kylar nods determinedly. "I will do it. When the time is right, I will initiate… things."

"Great. Do that. But don't come gushing to me about it afterwards, okay?"

Kylar makes a puzzled face at Connor's indifferent tone. "You do not wish to know if I succeed? I thought that best friends shared their experiences with each other."

"Well, yeah. You can tell me stuff. Just not in excessive detail. Look, what you do with Lorne in bed…" Connor winces. "Something I really don't need to know."

"Ah, because that's too much information," Kylar replies understandingly.

"Now you're getting it. Hey, let's watch the movie, okay?" Grabbing a DVD from the shelf, Connor shoves it into the player, keen to get away from the current topic. He cares about Kylar and wants the pretty demon-boy to be happy but thinking about Lorne getting his horn polished by anybody is all kinds of gross.

…

Since he can't train for a while because of his healing ribs, Kylar whittles away the hours reading (either in his room or out in the sunny hotel courtyard surrounded by friendly garden creatures), learning how to cook in the kitchen with Fred and Cordelia and also surfing the internet. Thanks to his tutoring lessons, he is getting quite confident with using a computer. He even goes shopping online, buying books and other items that he requires, Lorne giving him the use of a credit card and a bank account. Entrusted to manage his own finances, Kylar is extremely responsible with it and doesn't waste money, only purchasing things he needs so that he doesn't have to keep asking Lorne for them. Although, he does secretly splurge one day, buying a special outfit and some jewellery for his next date with Lorne.

A few weeks later, when Kylar has fully recovered from his injuries and begun training again, Lorne goes to see if the kid would like to have dinner with him. Not just in his room or at the kitchen table but in a proper demon-friendly restaurant with crisp linen napkins, shining silver cutlery and sparkling crystal glasses. If they're going to be a couple, he wants to do this the proper way and romance Kylar the way he ought to be romanced. Dine him, wine him, shower him with flowers and chocolates. The whole nine yards. Then when he thinks Kylar is ready he will cover his bed in rose petals, light some scented candles and make slow, sweet love to the boy, taking his time and proving to Kylar how deeply he is cared for. It will be perfect. But he has to build up that moment; it can't be rushed.

For tonight, dinner will do.

"I would love to," Kylar immediately answers, delighted at having been asked. "What time?"

"Say about seven-thirty?" Lorne suggests. "That give you enough time to get ready?"

"More than enough." Knowing about Lorne's fussiness with his appearance, Kylar teases, "I believe I shall be ready before you anyway. Come and get me when you're done."

"Will do," the older Empath returns, rushing off to shower and dress. After much mind-changing and suit-swapping, he eventually settles on a spotless white jacket and pants combo with a striped aqua shirt underneath and a black satin cravat knotted about his neck. He much prefers cravats over ties. They're softer and more sensual.

When Lorne is finally ready, hair painstakingly styled and cologne sprayed on, he heads down the hall to Kylar's door and knocks.

"It's open," Kylar calls from inside. Lorne turns the handle and enters the room, closing the door behind him. The lights have been unusually dimmed. A couple of scented candles burn on the bedside table. Kylar is still in the bathroom. When he finally comes out, Lorne almost can't believe his eyes. If he was carrying a drink in his hand, he would have dropped it onto the floor.

That's not Kylar. It's a forest nymph, surrounded by a halo of light. The boy is wearing something resembling a Roman-style dress, consisting of a soft draping of gauzy brown silk over one shoulder, the rest tied around his willowy waist with a sash of the same fabric. The dress is short, its hem finishing just above Kylar's knees and leaving his long legs on view. The sheer, floaty material shimmers when he moves, showing shades of bronze, copper and gold. It's the colour of autumn leaves. Golden circlets embossed with a leaf pattern adorn his slender wrists and ankles. He has caught his hair back, making a long loose ponytail and decorating it with tendrils of ivy. With his bare feet and fawn-like horns he looks like that seductive woodland creature Lorne had fantasised about a few moons ago, back when he first smelled Kylar's berry-coloured hair.

It's a costume. With everything else going on, Lorne forgot it was Friday the thirteenth tonight.

"Hey, don't you look…foresty. Going to a fancy dress party with Connor?" Lorne tries not to sound despondent that his dinner date has been forgotten.

"I am not going anywhere."

"But you're wearing…" Lorne tilts his head in bewilderment. "Why are you dressed like that, then?"

"Because I knew you would like to see me in something similar to this. I saw it once, in your mind."

Crap. Kylar HAD glimpsed that naughty little fantasy.

"I bought the outfit on the internet. I dress like this because I want to attract you into mating with me," Kylar says with typical Pylean bluntness. "My heart is mated with you already, but not my body. Tonight, I offer it to you."

Although these are words Lorne is thrilled to hear, he's also afraid of ruining his relationship with Kylar by taking it to a sexual level so soon after the boy's traumatic experience back on Pylea.

"Are you sure that's what you want, snow-pea?" Lorne nervously asks, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Are you sure you're ready? After everything you've been through? We can wait a bit longer, if you like."

"I am ready. My injuries have healed completely." Smiling confidently, Kylar adds, "Connor said all I had to do was be brave and make myself available to you and you would instantly take me to bed. He said you would not be able to refuse me."

"Oh he did, did he?" Lorne exclaims peevishly, glancing away with narrowed eyes. "That scheming little shit."

"Did he not speak the truth?" Kylar's lovely face falls in disappointment. "Are you not going to mate with me?"

Lorne sighs, throwing all his starry-eyed plans for flickering candles and expensive vintage wine out the window. "Do you really want our first time to happen now? Right here?"

"Right here. Right now. I don't want dinner, Lorne. I just want you. I know you want me too. And I believe we have waited long enough."

The certainty in the boy's crimson eyes is unwavering and sure, proving his readiness and maturity. He may only be eighteen but he's not a child; he's a young adult, and he knows exactly what he wants.

The same thing Lorne does. Whether it's tonight or ten weeks from now, they are going to become lovers so why postpone the inevitable? Why wait for the perfect time when the perfect time is here already? Besides, a lot can happen in ten weeks, like a zombie apocalypse or a deadly virus that wipes out all life on earth. May as well seize the day and live like it's the last because if the end of the world is coming, Lorne doesn't want to die with any regrets.

"You're right – to hell with waiting. I wholeheartedly accept your offer, Kylarkmar," he grants.

The brightness of Kylar's elated smile just about outshines the two Pylean suns.

"By the way, you look fucking fantastic," Lorne says heatedly, taking Kylar's face between his palms and claiming the teen's mouth, covering it with his own in a series of hungry kisses. Kylar's golden lip-ring is absent (and will be until he gets it re-pierced) but Lorne doesn't even miss it, only caring about the ripe softness of those plum-coloured lips and the way they open so thirstily to his. Lorne's kiss turns much more serious, the older Empath plunging his tongue deep inside Kylar's mouth. Kylar welcomes it, thrusting back with his own tongue, wrapping it around Lorne's. Lorne tastes like the dirty martini he drank before coming over here, the fiery flavour of gin on his breath, coupled with the sophistication of olive brine.

Needing to be closer to his cocktail-drinking man, Kylar slings his arms about Lorne's neck, sliding his bare leg around the taller demon's and pressing their lower bodies together. Kylar's skirt falls away at the side, revealing pale green flesh from hip to knee, Lorne's searching fingers following the exposed path of skin. Kylar is not wearing any underwear beneath that outfit and that makes Lorne even more excited, knowing that the kid planned for this to happen and is ready for it.

Suddenly, Lorne scoops him up by the back of the thighs, lifting Kylar off the floor so he's holding the smaller male against his front, Kylar's legs automatically crossing around Lorne's waist. Slipping both his hands beneath Kylar's firm little bottom, Lorne supports him, still kissing the sweet-tasting teenager as he blindly stumbles across the room, taking them towards the bed. When he reaches it, Lorne turns around and sinks back onto the mattress, bringing Kylar with him, the slim youth ending up in his lap. Under his cupped palm, Lorne can feel Kylar's heart beating rapidly within the boy's left buttock, the unique place where the centre of their cardiovascular systems is situated. Lorne is sitting on his own heart but it's pumping just as strongly as Kylar's is, the pulse throbbing down his thigh first before spreading out over the rest of his body.

Breaking the kiss, Lorne draws back to gaze at Kylar, cradling the boy's feminine face in his hands again, nearly unable to believe that such breathtaking exquisiteness belongs to him now.

"My beautiful, beautiful Kylar," he murmurs lovingly. "I have wanted to make you mine from the first day I saw you, even when you were skinny and dirty and I thought you were a girl. To find out you were really a boy was such a thrilling surprise."

Kylar blinks at him. "It was?"

"Yeah. I love that you're such a pretty boy." Lorne strokes the youth's darkly dotted cheekbones. "I love your pretty face."

Wanting to see the teenage beauty in his natural state, Lorne pulls the ivy from Kylar's ponytail, letting all that glorious purple-red hair tumble free.

"I love your pretty hair."

Lorne gathers handfuls of those glossy, wavy locks, relishing their heavy softness and allowing the thick violet strands to slide through his fingers like rippled satin. The scent of that hair is like a perfumed drug and Lorne is distracted enough to bury his face in it, to breathe in the heady fragrance of the silky mass before starting to undress Kylar. He slips the bronze toga-dress off one spotted shoulder and down a lean arm, leaving Kylar's torso uncovered.

"I love your pretty chest."

It's not sunken or bony anymore. It has filled out and attractive new muscles have formed now, the teen's upper body strengthened by all the weapons training he's been doing. Lorne strokes Kylar's delicately-patterned collarbones first, his thumb-pads then sweeping across nipples that are darker green than the surrounding flesh, the little nubs pebbling under his caress. Kylar inhales at the pleasurable sparks that Lorne's actions give him. Shifting forward, Lorne angles his head and takes one of those nipples into his mouth, running his tongue around it. Kylar breathes in even more sharply, the boy's fingers clenching in Lorne's styled brown hair.

"I love your pretty skin," the older demon murmurs against Kylar's chest. Sliding his hands down the long-haired teenager's ribs and up his back, Lorne feels all the ridged scars that lie beneath the curtain of mulberry waves, tracing the healed wounds, loving them because they are part of Kylar and every part of him is beautiful.

Forgetting the whip-marks are even there, Kylar can only feel Lorne's touch, the handsome demon's fingers caressing his sensitive flesh. He shivers with delight, Lorne trailing down his spine and then back to his hips, thumbs stroking Kylar's lightly-muscled stomach and making his nerves twitch.

"I love your pretty body. But most of all, I just love YOU, Kylar. Your heart, your soul, your sweetness and kindness. Your joy, your passion. Everything," Lorne proclaims emphatically. "I don't care what you used to be, or what you've done, or even what you're going to do later on down the track. I love you for exactly who you are right now and that will never, ever change. I don't care if you screw up or make mistakes, as long as you let me help you fix them. If you're hurting or sad, I want to be the one who comforts you and kisses away your tears."

These are the kinds of poetic declarations Kylar has dreamt of hearing and to hear them now from Lorne's very lips is almost enough to start Kylar crying.

"I want to be the one who makes you smile, who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who gives you pleasure and makes you feel things you've never felt before."

Watching Kylar's face, Lorne slips his fingers inside the androgynous boy's skirt, grazing along a soft inner thigh. He brushes over the teen's erect maleness, enclosing it in his hand.

"I want to make you so happy, my darling Kylarkmar."

"You already do," Kylar answers, moaning as Lorne touches him in a way no-one else ever has. "Oh, that's wonderful…"

"You like it?"

"Mmmm, yes…"

Lorne has longed to hear Kylar moan and purr like this. It's so sexy.

Unaware of the sounds he's making, Kylar's head rolls back in wanton delight as the root of his demonhood is slowly stroked and caressed. Lorne's hands are gentle but steady and knowledgeable, obviously having done this in the past to his other lovers. Kylar is not jealous as he knows that he is the one Lorne loves now but realising how experienced the older demon is makes Kylar slightly anxious. He does not have such a lot of experience. What if he can't please Lorne in the manner to which he is accustomed? What if Kylar isn't skilled enough? What if he disappoints Lorne?

"Lorne…" He chews his lip uncertainly. "You will have to show me what to do next. I am unsure."

Pausing, Lorne replies perplexedly, "But I thought you've mated before."

"I was mated _with_. When Gennsendar - the farmer's son - visited me at night, he would do things to my body. I did not touch his. I've never touched anyone else like that. I don't know how. I am afraid of doing it wrong."

"There's no wrong way to do it," Lorne reassures him. "Just touch me the way I've been touching you."

To make it easier for the kid, Lorne pulls off his white jacket, unknots his black cravat and opens his shirt. Sliding the aqua-hued garment off Lorne's freckled shoulders, Kylar tentatively makes hand-to-skin contact with him, feeling the other man's naked flesh for the first time. It's warm, smooth and soft, yet firm underneath. Lorne is not heavily muscled like a warrior but he is still masculine and flawless in every way – his chest broad and stomach taut.

Kylar's reverent touch is like dragonfly wings, so light it almost tickles. He explores Lorne's chest and flat nipples, sweeping along his guardian's abdomen and trailing down a stripe of brown belly-fur that disappears into the second man's pants. Unfastening his own zipper, Lorne encourages Kylar to reach inside.

"You're so big," Kylar whispers in awe as he brings Lorne's stiff male sex into the open.

Lorne chuckles in amusement. "No sweetie, your hands are just small."

The older Pylean's endowment is about six and a half inches long, which is the standard size for most human men. Kylar hasn't seen very many dicks before so of course Lorne's would seem quite large and imposing to him. It's awfully flattering, though.

"Like this," Lorne coaxes, wrapping the kid's slender fingers around his green length and moving them up and down. "Take your time. Pull it, rub it, squeeze it. You can't hurt me - just explore how it feels."

It feels hot and hard and when Kylar squeezes the solid flesh, a droplet of clear fluid trickles out of the cranberry-coloured tip and runs back down the dappled shaft. The fluid is very slippery and Kylar soon discovers that it makes stroking Lorne much easier when his palm is coated in it.

Lorne has been withholding his moans and trying to think of something else. Kylar touching him this way is almost enough to make him lose control like last time, when he prematurely popped his cork before getting to the real action. Not wanting that to happen again, he eventually pulls Kylar's fingers away, kisses them and then kisses the boy's chain-scarred wrist.

"Let's just pause for a moment, lima-bean, okay? Let me catch my breath."

"Okay," Kylar replies agreeably, sensing Lorne's tension. Wanting to help him calm down, Kylar begins raking his fingertips through the short blond-tipped spikes of Lorne's hair.

"Is that better?"

"Oh, yeah," Lorne sighs, shutting his eyes.

Leaning forward, the shirtless Empath presses his forehead to Kylar's, both of them relishing the closeness, sensing each other's thoughts and desires, the emotions of want and need washing over them in a warm wave from top to toe.

"I feel like I've gone to heaven," Lorne murmurs, butting his horns affectionately against Kylar's. Kylar butts back, encouraging him, so Lorne slides a bony point right behind one of the other boy's, scraping the underside from base to end, both of them hissing in a fast breath with the rawness of the sensation. Holding Kylar's head still with both hands, Lorne moves his face up, kissing the youth's brow before touching his lips to one tapered horn. It is grooved yet smooth, too short and blunt to use for fighting but there are other, more enjoyable uses for them, as both of the demons know. Sensually, Lorne licks up along that hard protrusion, absorbing Kylar's shudder, the younger one able to feel the searing wetness, even though layers of dense bone. Knowing exactly what he's doing to Kylar, how he is affecting the other male, Lorne focuses on the darker skin at the base of the horn, tracing the deep cracks there with the tip of his tongue, probing into them and making his pretty partner gasp.

When a very hot mouth encloses the entire length of his cranial appendage, Kylar gives a long, low moan, arching his body as Lorne slowly pulls back, lips sliding erotically over that essential part of Kylar's demonic identity, a part that seems to be linked directly to his groin. To Kylar, it feels like Lorne's mouth is down there instead, the boy's organ twitching and beginning to leak with excitement.

While the older male sucks sensuously on his horn, Kylar shifts in Lorne's lap so that the bright red tip of Lorne's hardness touches his sensitised entrance, the aroused teen rubbing himself against the smoothly rounded knob.

"By the twin suns of Pylea," Kylar groans, grinding down upon his guardian's speckled stiffness. "I must have you inside me, Lorne."

"Wait," Lorne gasps in warning, lifting an eager Kylar up and off him before he tries to take Lorne's cock without any lube. "I just have to get something first…I'll be five seconds."

Peeking through the door and glancing up and down the hallway to make sure nobody sees him half-undressed, Lorne dashes to his own room while holding his pants up with one hand, fetching a vial from his bedside drawer and rushing back to Kylar. The teenager has now fully divested himself of all clothing except for the gold bracelets and anklets and is lying there naked on his side, hair thrown over his shoulder and lashes lowered sexily and seductively, ready to be loved. Finding such an erotic sight waiting for him takes Lorne's breath clean away.

"What is that?" Kylar nods to the vial Lorne is holding.

"Oil," the older man replies, shimmying out of his pants and climbing back onto the bed. "Frangipani scented."

Lorne uses it to moisturise his horns, to stop them from drying out, keeping the colour a deep red. And okay, sometimes in the past he used it to moisturise other, lower parts of his body because dammit, Kylar wasn't around then and a horny demon had to do something to get a little relief! As Lorne tips the bottle of fragrant lubricate and pours some into his palm in preparation for what's to come, he almost can't believe he's actually going to make love to Kylar. His Kylar. His delightful, gorgeously incredible little Kylar.

"This will make it more comfortable for you," Lorne promises, applying the oil to his fingertips and rubbing them together so Kylar can see how slippery the substance is.

"Ah," Kylar breathes in understanding. "I have only had experience with pig fat in the stables. But this is much nicer than pig fat."

"And you won't smell like bacon afterwards," Lorne jokes, even though inside he's saddened that Kylar's only sexual encounters were under such harsh, unsanitary conditions.

Habitually, Kylar rolls over onto his stomach in a pose of total submission - as he used to do for the farmer's son - but then, remembering what Lorne told him, he flips back around so he can be face to face with his guardian. So they can look at each other. Lying back and resting his head on a pillow, Kylar gazes at the man he loves and shyly spreads his legs.

Lorne brings the oil between Kylar's thighs, starting to dab it on. Kylar gives a little jolt. Though he has been touched here before, it was a very long time ago and he's grown unfamiliar with it. Lorne is extremely careful as he applies the perfumed liquid, Kylar soon relaxing under the older demon's gentle strokes. He is even relaxed enough to allow a fingertip of Lorne's to slip in, Kylar moaning softly as it pulls out of him with delicious slowness. He had almost forgotten how responsive he was in that area, or how good it felt if it was stroked right.

As he's preparing Kylar, Lorne talks to him, to distract the boy and stop him from tensing up when two fingers breach his tight opening.

"Back on the farm, when Gennsendar visited you at night, did he ever make you come?"

"Come where?" Kylar naively murmurs, gazing into Lorne's eyes inquisitively.

"I mean, did he ever bring you to a climax?" With slow pressure, Lorne pushes in deeper, watching Kylar react positively. "When he was having sex with you, did you ever ejaculate semen?"

Kylar's cheeks darken at the explicit question but he answers honestly. "I was close, a few times. However, no. I never reached climax. He always finished before I could."

"So, he just used your body and then disappeared?"

"He was not deliberately selfish. As I told you earlier, he gave me food and took care of my wounds. He was simply frightened of his family catching us together so he could not stay too long," Kylar says in the dead warrior's defence. "I also think I was the only boy he'd ever been with. Perhaps he wanted to please me but just did not know what to do. Much like me, he was inexperienced."

"Have you even had an orgasm before?"

Flushing again, Kylar admits, "Yes. I have had wet dreams. Also, when Gennsendar left me alone after mating with me, I would sometimes reach down and rub my…" The younger male breaks off, breath hitching as a third finger stretches him, but in an exciting way. "I…I know what they are supposed to feel like. But I have not done that for a long time."

"Why not?"

"I was waiting for this moment. When I touched myself back in the stables it was not the farmer's son I was thinking of," Kylar confesses breathlessly, his eyes open and with nothing to hide. "It was you, Krevlornswath."

A swift surge of arousal hits Lorne in the belly. "You wanted me back then? When you were what? Sixteen?"

"I did. Earlier, even." And the kid doesn't sound ashamed about it. "I knew you would mate with me one day. And I vowed I would wait for you."

"That is so hot, baby-cakes," Lorne just about pants. "You were so young to be thinking such adult things."

Lorne's too turned-on to worry about the fifteen-year age difference now or feel guilty about it.

Of a similar viewpoint, the mature teenager closes his eyes, shuddering as Lorne's tongue swirls around his closest horn. "I never cared that you were older than me. I wanted you regardless."

"You still want me now?"

Kylar is moaning, nearly unable to think, or even talk. Lorne is sucking on the receptive point of bone while his oiled fingers slide in and out of Kylar's body, the double stimulation making Kylar squirm and arch up off the bed with restless need.

"Yes," he whimpers, clenching around Lorne's fingers. "Oh please, Lorne. I love you. I want you. Please…Now…"

Knowing that the kid is more than ready for him, Lorne lubes up his own shaft with the frangipani oil, positions himself between Kylar's legs and then carefully starts to push inside that tight little opening.

Gasping, Kylar clutches Lorne's shoulders, automatically lifting his knees higher so he can be penetrated easier. Lorne's preparation has worked as Kylar feels no pain whatsoever, only an exhilarating sensation of stretching and fullness. As he's being entered Kylar faces Lorne directly just as Lorne wanted, his eyes like large rubies, locked onto his older partner's so he doesn't miss a thing. The fact that he's not on his belly makes this encounter nothing like all the others back on the farm. When he was mated with in the past, Kylar had always had his face pressed into the hay so he never saw the pleasure he gave to another man but he can see it now, written all over Lorne like words on the page of a book. Knowing that he is the cause of such indescribable bliss fills Kylar with wonder. His expression starts to mirror Lorne's when the older male gives one last push and is fully embedded within Kylar's body, so connected they can feel each other's heartbeats.

"Oh, sweet honey. You feel so damn good," Lorne moans ecstatically, nuzzling the boy's throat and starting to move his hips - withdrawing, thrusting forward and withdrawing again in an increasingly arousing motion, filling Kylar over and over and making their bellies burn with desire.

Whimpering needily, Kylar digs his nails into Lorne's back, never wanting this close coupling to stop. Having Lorne inside him is even better than he dreamed.

"You like this, baby?" Lorne whispers in Kylar's ear, driving in a little deeper, making sure Kylar can feel every pulsing inch of him.

"Yes," Kylar whispers back excitedly, tightening his pelvic muscles and gripping Lorne from the inside. "I love it…"

In an unexpected move, Lorne rolls them both over so that Kylar ends up sitting on top of him. Kylar looks surprised.

"Sex can be done this way too," Lorne grins, proving it with a series of teasing thrusts. "It can be done a lot of different ways."

"Oh," Kylar says in astonishment, only really familiar with pig-style. "I never knew!"

Lorne stops and stays still. "Go on," he coaxes. "You move. See what feels good to you."

"What about you?" Kylar asks in return.

"Don't worry about me, cherry-lips. Everything you do feels good to me."

Both hands braced on Lorne's chest, Kylar tries rocking his hips and then lifting up and down on his knees, finding a slow shallow rhythm that suits him and causes the fire in his stomach to blaze hotter. Repeatedly impaling himself upon Lorne's mighty male weapon is the most pleasurable sensation he's ever felt in his life.

"Oh Lorne," he breathes huskily. "This is marvellous…"

As they are both Empaths, they can sense what the other is experiencing, can feel each other's enjoyment and fulfilment. Lorne's never had any sex like this before. That's because this isn't just sex – it's lovemaking. They are making love, sharing love, giving love.

The sight of Kylar flexing his slim body on top of Lorne, long wavy hair swaying and bouncing as he moves, his wine-coloured lips parted in sensuality and garnet eyes suffused with an almost-drugged look of sexual gratification…it's the most stunning and spectacular vision Lorne has ever seen.

"Kylarkmar," Lorne groans as he is being ridden, incapable of expressing in words how much the boy means to him. "Kylar, Kylar, Kylar…"

The eighteen year old has never heard his name being said like that, as if it is some type of holy prayer to the Powers That Be. But Lorne isn't worshipping them right now; he's too busy drowning in ecstasy.

While Kylar lifts himself up and down, he starts trembling and shaking, like his bodily control is slipping. His skin is glimmering with perspiration and his face is heating up. All of his nerves are buzzing and tingling. Something is building inside of him, something supremely powerful and fearsome that he's not sure he wants to release.

Sensing that Kylar is afraid of the strength of his own physical pleasure, Lorne whispers encouragingly, "Don't be scared of it, sugar. It's okay."

Wildly, Kylar shakes his head, thinking that it's too much, too intense, that he can't possibly handle any more of this sensory overload without exploding like a fermenting melon in the summer sun but Lorne keeps whispering to him.

"Come for me, sweetheart. Trust me. Let yourself go…"

When he senses Kylar on the very cusp of climax, his trim thighs straining and quivering with the struggle, Lorne takes control, grinding his hips upwards and giving the boy a few quick, precise thrusts to hit his erogenous inner spot and bring on his release.

"Lorne…Ah, ah, Lorne!" Calling his guardian's name, Kylar stiffens all over and then gives a convulsive series of shudders, spilling pearly droplets onto his lover's freckled stomach in rhythmic gushes, his belly tightening over and over with rapture. As Lorne brings him to his first partnered orgasm, tears are streaming freely down Kylar's face at how overwhelmingly amazing it feels but he keeps his gaze connected with Lorne's, watching the reaction from the other crimson-eyed male.

"Oh God, Kylar… I'm coming too," Lorne half-moans, half-sobs. He grips Kylar's waist tightly with both hands, ramming up hard and fast into that slick heat and jolting the youth's slender figure. Kylar cries out at the rougher, more frenzied thrusting but he widens his legs for the man underneath him, accepting everything Lorne has to offer, needing to be loved and filled and completed as wholly as possible.

"Take my love, baby," the older Pylean pants impassionedly as he erupts into the teen on top of him. "Take it, take all of it. It's all for you…"

Kylar gasps, feeling liquid flames spreading over the inside of his belly as Lorne comes, each surge of released fluid like the hot rush of blood through a beating heart.

Groaning thickly, the thirty-three year old Empath drives in one final time. Buried as deep inside his beautiful boy as he can go, Lorne arches his tall, tautened frame up off the bed to give Kylar every last ounce of his life-essence, filling the violet-haired teenager with so much loving warmth that he'll never feel cold or alone or unwanted ever again. Even when Lorne's seed is long gone, this feeling of closeness and completeness will stay with Kylar for the rest of his life.

It will stay with both of them, the two demons now forever bonded in spirit and flesh.

Just as the Powers That Be arranged to happen.

…Epilogue…

When their lovemaking is over, the two demons still remain there on the bed in the same position, Kylar on top of Lorne, both of them panting and staring at each other with awed scarlet eyes, their minds blown by how intense that was. Lorne's had all kinds of sex with all kinds of creatures but nothing and nobody has ever rocked his world like Kylar just did.

Rotating his pelvis, Lorne gives another couple of slow thrusts, not wanting to separate himself from this warm, wet paradise but knowing he has to, eventually. With great care, Lorne lifts the willowy teenager up and pulls out, Kylar moaning weakly as Lorne's softening shaft slips from him.

"Did I hurt you, honey-bun?" Lorne inquires in concern, setting the boy back down so he's on Lorne's stomach.

Dazedly, Kylar shakes his head. He feels stretched and slightly raw down there from all the friction but not hurt. Exhausted, the younger Pylean collapses forward onto Lorne's chest, burying his tear-streaked face into the older man's neck and closing his eyes, Kylar's racing heartbeat beginning to slow down and his thighs throbbing and aching. He's tired but oh, he's never been happier, now that Lorne is truly all his. The best part is that they can do this again, and again, every night for as long as they both live. Which will hopefully be a very long, long time.

Also feeling the same worn-out contentment, Lorne holds Kylar close to his own naked skin, smoothing the kid's berry-coloured hair and lifting the damp, tangled tresses off Kylar's sweaty, scar-covered back. They lie there for a while, recuperating and relishing their new intimacy.

The great thing about being empathic is that Lorne doesn't have to ask Kylar how the sex was for him. Lorne already knows. He can sense the waves of satisfaction coming from Kylar's resting figure like pulses of light. Though Lorne was regrettably not the one to take the boy's virginity, he bets the farmer's son never made Kylar glow so beautifully like this.

Pressing a kiss onto the top of the youth's head, Lorne affectionately murmurs, "Have I told you how much I adore you, Kylarkmar of the Muthwok Clan?"

"Yes. But you can tell me again." Lifting long lashes, Kylar glances up and smiles at his handsome champion. "I adore you as well, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan. I have adored you always, since I first saw you, when I was but a boy-child in the fields of Pylea."

"You're not a boy-child any longer. You're a strong young man, a worthy warrior and a valuable member of Angel Investigations," Lorne says proudly. "We are your family now and this is your home. This is your world. Not Pylea."

"I agree," the younger Empath answers. "Pylea never felt like home to me."

Taking Kylar's face in his hands, Lorne says gravely, "Promise me, you'll never, ever go back to that ghastly dimension. Ever. Promise me you won't go near my club again, or anything that even resembles a portal."

"I swear it," Kylar vows, his ruby eyes big and solemn. "My place is here. My heart is here. With you."

"You got that straight, apple-cake," Lorne declares, pulling his beautiful demon-teen in for one of what will be many, many kisses over the many, many years to come. They have a lifetime of loving to enjoy and they will do it everywhere and in every way possible, making their own brand of sweet, sweet music echo around the universe.

(And they might even let the Ho'kio twins join them one day…)

The End

…

_A/N: Well, it's finally over :( Thank you all for reading, for all your reviews and for making it to the very end even though it wasn't an easy journey! I hope you liked the way it ended and please, drop me a line if you enjoyed my story and fell in love with Lorne and Kylar, just as I did. I'd love to hear from you guys one last time :)  
Huge thanks & many hugs,_

_Rina_


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